


The Far Dark Shore

by Ralph_E_Silvering



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker's lightsaber, Eventual Romance, Eventual Suitless Vader, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Fulcrum Ahsoka, Gen, M/M, Minor Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan and Vader working together, Obi-wan on Tatooine, Past Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Vader is obsessed with Obi-Wan, tiny princess Leia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-08-14 13:24:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16493408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralph_E_Silvering/pseuds/Ralph_E_Silvering
Summary: Hunting through the remains of a rebel ship, Darth Vader discovers a clue that could lead him back to Obi-Wan Kenobi at last.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been years since Vader last encountered the aroma of Obi-Wan's infernal spiced tea, yet he would know the scent of it anywhere. But what was his old Master’s favorite brand of tea doing on a ship registered to Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan? Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith and burgeoning private investigator, intends to find out.
> 
> Novel-length work alert, probably with weekly updates. Written for NaNoWriMo 2018. So far, this story will feature Vader POV, Obi-Wan POV, some Ahsoka POV and brief Bail Organa, Captain Maximilian Veers, and Thrawn POVs. The time period in which this story is set will be made clear very quickly. I’ve been reading Lords of the Sith, so you’ll see references to that all over the place. Expect cameos from all sorts of characters!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light. I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night. ~ Sarah Williams

The Far Dark Shore

Prologue

 

The jagged, slate-grey nose of the ISD- _Perilous_ slid smoothly through space. From far away she moved in complete silence, her massive sublight engines lighting up the darkness, her wedge-shaped outline imposing, majestic and nigh indestructible – a fortress among the stars. And all utterly without sound.

Up close was a different matter.

Sparks of light flared around the _Perilous_ , like middens around a gundark; insignificant and powerless. Yet, when they died, from the _Perilous’_ guns or the cannons of the TIE fighters which hunted them down, they exploded; energy and air combining into bursts of red and gold and heat – light and sound.

It was almost…poetic.

Or so his master would have thought.

Vader himself thought they – the battles, the rebels – were a hindrance. They were just one more petty roadblock to his and the Emperor’s grand vision.

Another explosion rocked the _Perilous_. From farther down the bridge, Captain Luitt cursed and then shouted orders towards the men and women who filled the stations and whose tension Vader could almost taste, sour with fear, in the Force.

He could feel his ever-present rage howling at the edge of his awareness, the rage which drove him and fed his power, and he wanted to act _now_.

As always, the memory of his master’s wishes and power kept him under control. _Soon, old friend,_ the Emperor always told him. _Soon you will be unleashed upon them. When the moment is most beneficial to us._

That moment had not arrived yet.

“We’re taking heavy fire on the rear, port deflector shield!” a lieutenant yelled as the ship was rocked once more. Her voice contained heavy strain.

A rebel ship was shot down right outside the forward viewports, causing an explosion which sent pieces of debris shooting out in all directions, most if it towards the _Perilous’_ bridge. Alarms blared, and sensor stations lit up in flashing red.

“Shields holding at sixty-five percent,” Major Piett called out from his own station. His voice was stoic. Vader knew from experience that the man was unflappable in the face of danger. He had seen the very end of the Clone Wars after all.

Before Captain Luitt could respond to either party, Vader spoke. “Angle the rear deflectors. Move the ship thirty degrees to port and increase forward batteries.”

There was a momentary pause as the bridge crew deliberately refrained from looking between Vader and Luitt. Vader could feel the Captain’s swell of annoyance and anger at the Sith Lord’s blatant usurpation of his authority, but he didn’t care. He saw what needed to be done and he did it. The Empire, and his master, had no time for officers who deliberated when action was required.

Luitt gave a tight nod. “Do as Lord Vader commands.”

The sirens were wailing, and Vader could hear the ship straining, durasteel beams creaking, as the _Perilous_ swung rapidly to port. The forward batteries opened fire, doubling their rate of discharge. It couldn’t be sustained for long without the cannons overheating, but it had the desired effect of scattering the motley gathering of rebel ships doing damage to the _Perilous’_ port side. One more group of traitors to the Empire was destroyed today.

Or rather, not yet. But they would be, for now was Vader’s moment. “Captain, is my fighter prepped for launch?”

Luitt strode down the bridge towards him, his emotions once more held tightly under the control of professionalism. “Yes, Lord Vader,” he said, nodding sharply. “Your personal squadron is ready and awaiting your orders in hangar bay twenty-two twenty-four.”

“Good,” Vader said, before whirling around and stalking from the bridge, his cloak billowing out behind him. He could feel the relief as he left, and he reveled in it. His master believed that fear was necessary in those who served under the Sith.

He was pleased to find Commander Gradd and the rest of the squadron indeed ready and waiting for him. He ran through the initial startup sequence on autopilot, so deeply buried in the Force – watching the ebb and flow of the battle – that for a moment time was meaningless, the past was the present, and he said, “All systems are green. How do things look back there, Artoo?”

The resulting silence, thick save for the breathing of his respirator, jolted him back to awareness. Of course there was no answer, because R2-D2 had belonged to the Jedi, to Anakin Skywalker, and Anakin Skywalker was dead.

He had been dead for five years now.

Vader felt that ever-present fury, the memory of the fires of Mustafar, swell within him again and this time he let it consume him, drive him. The Force flowed in him and through him everywhere...everywhere except for the mechanical limbs, which remained dark and empty in the landscape of his awareness; a last gift from –

“Launch fighters,” Vader said, fury burning in him, his respirator struggling to keep up with his pounding heart rate, and he hurled his craft towards space.

Out there in the cold silence of space was freedom – freedom from everything, but especially from the past. Out there was only Vader’s rage and those who would die because of it.

The rest of Vader’s squadron quickly moved into formation around him, spreading out in a tight, overlapping pattern that meant their lack of shields was compensated for by a concentrated rate of firepower. Vader took a quick look at the spread of the battlefield, his computer displays inside the TIE fighter quickly differentiating enemy ships from friendlies. The problem with the computer displays though, were that they failed to show the debris field which had rapidly spread out around the _Perilous_ in all directions, remnants from the Star Destroyer itself but also the wreckage of smaller Imperial and Rebel craft alike.

Navigating the debris field while avoiding enemy fire would be difficult for his pilots. But not for him. The Force was his.

“Attack pattern Delta,” he ordered, feeling the flickers of acknowledgement from his men as several A-wings moved within range. The A-wing was maneuverable but lightly-shielded and no match for the TIE’s heavy guns. It was a modified version of one of the Separatists last designs, something the Valahari had originally developed the prototype to back when they served under Dooku’s command.

Vader shouldn’t have been surprised that these rebel traitors were in league with Separatist holdovers, and he wasn’t, but it still made him burn with rage.

He targeted first one, then a second, then the third A-wing, destroying them all, then quickly broke formation, leaving his pilots with the clean-up duty of the bulky freighter the A-wings had been protecting. It looked to be slow and without weapons, perhaps modeled on an old dreadnaught design, and Vader had no doubt that they were up to the task of subduing it.

If they were not, well then he would have several more spaces to fill in the squadron come the next rotation.

Vader himself punched the TIE as hard as it would go, sending the maneuverable craft towards the bow of the _Perilous_ and deep out into space. Saleucami, a planet in the Outer Rim which had seen conflict during the Clone Wars, hung glimmering in the distance, green and silver under its red dwarf sun. No doubt, the rebels thought to flee towards it.

Vader quickly gained on them, their battered, derelict ships no match for a top of the line _Sienar_ -class TIE fighter.

“Lord Vader” Captain Luitt’s voice came over the comm. “You’re too far out of range. We can’t cover you any longer.”

“There is no need,” Vader told him, unconcerned. “Prepare the _Perilous_ for departure as soon as I return.” And he switched the comm off.

Two Y-wings, hanging back behind and obviously covering a Corellian corvette desperately hauling towards the planet, slowed as Vader gained ground on them. Swinging around to face him, Vader could feel the fear in the Y-wing pilots as they readied their ships to make a run. They moved slowly, still too far away for Vader to get a clear visual, but it seemed as though they almost hit the corvette as they lined themselves up beside it. Either their ships were in worse repair than even Vader assumed, or these pilots were barely deserving of the name, children and fools sucked in by the lies of a band of traitors.

Vader didn’t even bother to slow his craft.

The Y-wings tried to maneuver, to avoid his cannon fire, but they were unwieldly and too slow. Yet, illogically, still they came. Their weapons were too weak to even damage Vader’s ship. Vader felt a flicker in the Force, but he was still several meters away from them when they exploded under his constant fire into a cloud of dust and debris…

…from which a pair of A-wings, hiding their heat signatures in the Y-wings’ exhaust, burst from the debris and strafed Vader’s TIE.

For a moment, a brief instant in time, Vader was frozen in surprise. _How had he failed to sense them? Surely the Force would not have deserted him after all this time?_

And then he moved faster than thought, hitting the emergency ejection sequence just as the blaster fire from the rebel A-wings hit the TIE’s ion engines…

…and everything around him exploded.

The suit overloaded, its sensors going dark, and for a moment everything around was black. Then, with a faint sound that Vader felt more than heard, they flickered back on. Vader found himself in space. Everything was dark and cold and he was alone, with the blue-green planet spinning below him and the rebel craft far in the distance. He was still alive. Experimentally, he moved his hands and the suit answered him. The armored plastisteel and durasteel of his biomechanical suit meant that he could withstand the deadly cold and pressure of space longer than most other sentients, but not long enough that he could pull himself back to the _Perilous_. Everything was still eerily silent. Floating in the vacuum, amid the debris of his ship, Vader was reminded inexorably of the past once more.

Ahsoka. She had once been his Padawan. Her voice came from very far away. A memory, faint as gossamer silk.

_It was Master Plo Koon who found me, and brought me to the Temple where I belonged. Now he’s lost, so I thought, maybe I could find him._

He remembered Master Plo, standing on the outside of the escape pod, lightsaber lit, able to withstand the elements until Anakin and Ahsoka found him. The memory stabbed him like a blade, painful and deep. He ruthlessly shoved it aside, buried it and focused on the task at hand. He was still alive because of the armor gifted to him by his master. It was his armor which separated him from all others in the galaxy, made him unique and proclaimed his destiny. It was his armor which had finally freed him from the constraints and demands of the flesh which had once plagued him.

Obi-Wan. Padmé.

Ghosts from the past. That was all. As dead and gone as Anakin Skywalker. Now there was only the Force. Only power and those too weak to wield it.

Up ahead, the Corellian corvette had slowed, waiting for the A-wings to circle back around and take up flanking positions on either side of it once more. Vader could feel their pilots coming closer behind him, their thoughts elsewhere. They did not even scan the wreckage of his TIE fighter for a survivor. Foolish of them. And sloppy.

They passed over his head.

Vader reached out with the Force, bent it to his will. He stretched out a mechanical hand, his limbs no more bothered by the lack of gravity than they were by its presence. He flicked his hand once, and the A-wing on his right jerked hard to the left. Vader had time to feel the shock and fear in the pilot on the right as she lost control of her craft, before it crashed into the second A-wing and both were engulfed in an inferno.

Then he stretched out his hand once more, pulling himself through space towards the Corellian corvette. He ignited his lightsaber as he approached, knowing that he had only seconds left before his suit depressurized and he froze to death, or his body exploded from the expansion of air in his lungs.

But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the rapidly approaching rebel ship and the enemies who would fall before his blade.

 

0o0


	2. Tatooine

Vader stood among the dead and listened to the steady breathing of his respirator. All around him lay the bodies of men and women in no discernible uniform, who had fought with no sense of cohesion or unity of purpose, and who appeared to be from a variety of species, several of which were notorious for not getting along with one another. The only thing they appeared to have in common was their allegiance to this particular rebel cell. And the fact that they were all dead.

Vader felt no remorse at their deaths. They were traitors to the Empire and they had died as all traitors must.

The Corellian corvette, whose transponder code read _Journey’s End_ , hung motionless in space. Even its engines were no longer functioning, having been silenced, permanently, by Vader himself during his rampage through the engine compartment.

Vader’s comm pinged. “What is it, Captain?” He was in no mood for trivialities. The Force moved strangely around this ship and Vader would determine its meaning before he did anything else. There were no other life forms aboard and so he could not fathom what the danger might be. Nevertheless, there was a slightly ominous tinge to his Force sense, an awareness of something he could not quite discern but which made him uneasy all the same.

“Lord Vader.” Captain Luitt sounded relieved. “When we saw your ship explode, we feared the worst.”

“You were mistaken,” Vader told him succinctly. “Is there a purpose to this call, Captain?”

“Yes, my lord.” Vader could sense no anger in the man’s tone at Vader’s own brusque response. It was one of the reasons he preferred dealing with military officers instead of bureaucrats. They had their own sense of pride and self-importance, especially those who came from prestigious families and graduated from the Imperial Academy on Coruscant. But on the whole, they were not ones to waste time with words and platitudes.

Captain Luitt cleared his throat. “Captain Veers is one his way with a boarding party, Lord Vader. Is the ship cleared?”

“Yes,” Vader said. “I shall await the Commander in the hangar bay.”

Vader took the long way to the sole hangar bay on board the ship. The corvette was of standard size and its hangar bay could only hold a small freighter ship, but that was more than enough space for the Imperial shuttle carrying a contingent of the 501st to land. Wires hung loose, sparking, several rebels lay strewn across the floor, unmoving and bodies marred by returned blaster fire or lightsaber wounds, and debris from the bombardment of the _Perilous_ lay scattered about.

Vader stood amid the carnage and impatiently waited as the ramp descended.

The man who descended first was rapidly aging, but he was one who had Vader’s complete trust. “Commander Cody,” he said.

The battered yellow and white armor of the clone commander was unchanged from the days when the man had served under…under Kenobi. The walk was unchanged, the man’s unswerving loyalty to his General was unchanged, and his ability to get straight to business was also unchanged.

“General.” Cody saluted. He was the only person to still call Vader by this title. And he was the only one Vader let call him this. The man had more than earned it, and he had never otherwise referenced their shared past. “Reporting for duty, sir. What have we got?”

“Run a basic perimeter sweep. Make sure there are no more surprises aboard. And then tear the nav computer and the ship’s transponder apart. I want to know who owns this ship and where it was going.”

“Yes, sir.” Cody saluted again and then turned to direct his men. Captain Veers took a platoon of soldiers down to the engineering compartment to make sure that the hyperspace and sublight drives had been left untampered by desperate rebels who may have hoped to take Vader with them to the grave. Echo, who was the last of Vader’s, no, the Jedi’s, old comrades left alive, was sent to the bridge. Cody himself stayed by Vader’s side.

“Ready when you are, sir,” he said. And that was all.

Vader had, perhaps, been mistaken. The only thing that had changed was that for Cody now, there was only duty. He had been betrayed by the Jedi just as Vader had. It had been their fate, and their common path beyond that betrayal and in service to the Empire, which bound them together. They could never be friends, for by its very existence the Force mandated that Vader rule over those who could not even touch it, but they could be comrades after a fashion.

_The strong rule over the weak_ , Vader reminded himself. It was something he had learned under his master’s tutelage and a lesson which had been long overdue. The Jedi had never seen the true nature of the Force and they had been destroyed by it. Vader had almost been destroyed as well, but his master’s teachings had saved him, and he had learned.

He wondered if this ship, these rebels, this anomaly in the Force that whispered at the edge of his awareness, was another lesson from his master. Or perhaps, a test.

He strode down the flickering hallways of the destroyed rebel ship, heading towards the cargo hold. Cody followed him in silence. The durasteel doors shutting the cargo away from the rest of the ship were locked shut, the keypad destroyed by a blaster bolt. Design or random misfire, Vader could not tell.

The Sith stood before the doors and snapped the pointer finger of his metal right hand upwards just once. The door screeched, strained, and then sullenly complied with Vader’s demand on the Force, inching its way upwards until the musty contents of the hold were displayed. Dim lights flickered on as Vader and Cody stepped through the doorway and into the narrow aisle piled high on either side with dingy looking crates.

The Commander stepped away from Vader, bending over one of the wooden crates. He brushed aside a small cloud of dust. “Medical supplies,” he said in his clipped tone.

Vader nodded. His eyes, trapped behind their red lenses, carefully scanned the room for anything out of the ordinary, but he could sense no obvious threat. Still, something was not right here. Vader moved over towards the next crate, ripped off the lid and starrd below into packets of dried meat. He was unsure what kind of meat it was, but it didn’t look appetizing.

He could feel Cody moving between crates behind him.

Vader tore apart another crate – dehydrated meeilorun juice from Lothal – and another – rough, woolen fabrics which could have come from anywhere – before the Commander cleared his throat. “General,” he said, from directly behind Vader. The Sith Lord turned, and Cody placed a worn datapad into his hand. “The hold’s manifest,” Cody said, and stood silently beside Vader as he scanned its contents.

Basic food, clothing and supplies. That was all the hold contained. No weapons, no datapads of information, no drugs or illicit substances.

It couldn’t be the correct manifest.

The Force would not have whispered so strangely.

Vader’s comm pinged. “Yes, Captain,” the Sith Lord said.

The hum of voices and machinery came over the comm from the rebel corvette’s bridge, where Captain Veers and his men were busy breaking through layers of security and misdirection.

“The transponder code has been heavily overwritten and modified, my lord,” Captain Veers said. The man had once been CorSec and his disgust for this blatant disregard of law and procedure was clear in his voice. “However, we have been able to ascertain that the ship’s point of origin is from Aldraig, in the Alderaan sector.”

Captain Veer’s tone was studiously neutral. Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan, and husband of Queen Breha, was known to be a vocal opponent of many of the Emperor’s policies, but no hint of sedition had ever been attached to his name. And Alderaan’s queen was beloved throughout the Inner Rim. If there had been any corruption or treason from the House of Organa, the Imperial Security Bureau (ISB) had so far failed to uncover it.

“Very well,” Vader said. “When we are finished here, send your report to Colonel Yularen.”

Yularen was another name, another ghost, from the past. He had not always been the head of the ISB. Once, long ago, he had served in the Republic Navy, under General Anakin Skywalker. But that had been another life, and once which Vader rarely remembered anymore.

“Have you found where the ship was headed?” he demanded.

“That’s the curious thing,” Veers said. “Corporal Raventhorn discovered the final destination in the ship’s log. She’s utterly brilliant with decryption or I would second-guess her results.”

“And why is that, Captain?”

“Because Salecuami is nowhere near Tatooine.”

For a moment, Vader couldn’t speak. A sudden, nauseas drop in his stomach sent a wave of dizziness through him. It was the shock, that was all. He felt anger rise within him again, pushing the shock away. Organa, Cody, Yularen, Tatooine. Too many names from the past.

“My Lord?” Veers sounded almost concerned.

“That will be all for now, Captain. Inform me of anything else you find.” Vader comm’d off.

For a moment, the only sound in the cargo hold was the steady rasp of Vader’s breathing. _Tatooine._ Why would a ship, registered to the Alderaan system, head to a forgotten, desert planet controlled by the Hutts, like Tatooine? Vader hadn’t even been back there since…

“Tatooine is an odd choice,” Commander Cody said, voice as professional as always, but Vader could feel his surprise in the Force, his brief swell of recognition before the other man suppressed it.

There was more to this than the simple destruction of a rebel cell. For a moment, in the Force, Vader thought he saw myriad paths of light heading off in all directions from this moment. But that was nonsense of course. “Continue searching the cargo hold, Commander,” he ordered and ripped another crate apart.

They were towards the very back of the hold, moving steading inwards from the corners, when the Commander gave a small sound of surprise.

Vader turned towards him. “What is it?”

 “Nothing, General,” Cody said, shaking his head. But he stepped aside as Vader approached all the same. There was indeed nothing of importance in the crate the Commander of the 501st just opened. All that lay inside were neatly stacked cloth bags that appeared to be filled with tea. Something for the techs to go through later. Vader was about to turn away and resume his own search when his respirator finally caught up with the scent wafting up from the craft. It was…familiar.

He froze and took another look. He couldn’t consciously take another breath, but he waited for his respirator to bring the faint smell to him once again.

It couldn’t be.

Vader reached into the crate and brought out a bag of the tea, studying it through his photoreceptors. It _was_. It was his master’s infernal tea. A whiff of warmth and spice came to his senses once more, a mix of cinnamon and cardamom and something Anakin just always associated with his Master, rich and heady, something that reminded him of home. No, not his master. The Jedi’s old master. Kenobi.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked Cody, his respirator attempting to compensate for his increased heart rate.

The pause before the Clone Commander answered was a long one. “The General’s old tea, sir,” Cody said at last, as though bracing himself for a blow, but Vader hardly heard him anymore.

There were ghosts all around him today. For a moment the Force whispered to him, clearer than it had in years, and Vader knew that there were two paths set before him. On the one hand, he could put the presence of this tea – this much of Kenobi’s favorite tea, a rather rare brand and hard to come by – on a rebel ship originating from the Alderaan sector – run by Bail Organa, a suspected rebel and Jedi sympathizer – and destined for _Tatooine_ of all places, down to coincidence. He could report the matter to the Emperor, let the ISB handle it and forget the past, as his master commanded him. He had done his job, he had destroyed this rebel cell. And now he would go on to the next band of rebels. Hunting, always hunting.

Or, he could follow the trail presented by the bags to tea back to Alderaan, to Organa…and maybe even back to Kenobi himself.

For a moment he felt alive in a way he hadn’t in years. Kenobi still lived, he could feel it in his bones. And he had always been fated to face him once more, to decide between them once and for all, who was the true master of the Force.

“Set course for the Alderaan system, Commander, and informed Colonel Yularen to have an Imperial Security Bureau presence meet us in Aldera.”

Organa would lead him to the remaining Jedi, to Kenobi, at last.

 

0o0

 

Obi-Wan “Ben” Kenobi, who had once been a Jedi Master in service to the Republic, stood at the very edge of a cliff and surveyed the vast, unchanging desert far below his feet. Wind-scored messas and buttes dotted the landscape before giving way to the rolling, shifting hills of the Dune Sea. The world was awash in colors of tan and grey and yellow and brown. Plain colors fit for a plain man. The air was parched, and the twin suns above scorched the land beneath their fiery eyes. A dry wind whipped through his hair and robes, attempting to blow him off the cliff and down towards the ravine fathoms below.

“Master, do you really think it’s wise to stand so close to the edge?” A beloved voice asked.

Obi-Wan felt a reluctant smile tug at his lips. “If you stand only at the center, the universe looks the same in all directions. But if, however, you look over the edge, the galaxy itself lies before you.”

A snort came from behind him. “That sounds like something Master Yoda would say.”

Obi-Wan’s smile spread. “Qui-Gon actually.” He stroked his beard. “Although he may have learned it from Yoda. Anything’s possible.”

Ahsoka Tano moved up beside him, shaking her head ruefully. “Somehow I’m not surprised,” she said, sounding amused. The wind whisked her voice away and whipped her headtails across her red-and-white, striped cheeks.

Ben turned towards her and tugged the hood of her plain, brown cloak up over the tips of her montrals. “A desert is no place for a Torgruta,” he said, remembering the one time he had visited Shili, and the cool, waving-grasses of the plains and tundras that made up the planet.

Ahsoka’s clear blue eyes carefully moved over his face, taking in the changes wrote by five years existing at the edge of the Jundland Wastes. “Neither is it a place for humans, master. Your beard is already shot through with grey.” She reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. “You’re not even that old,” she whispered sadly.

Obi-Wan tried to sound wry. “I feel ancient,” he said, making light of the past half-decade, the bitter loneliness and grief.

Ahsoka shook her head. “This would never have happened…” she bit off the words abruptly. _…if Anakin were still alive_ , hung unspoken between them.

Pain and memory stabbed Obi-Wan like a blade. _I hate you_ , the monster from his nightmares screamed once more, and it was the howl of the desert wind, ravenous and never-satisfied, seeking and yet always destroying, all at the same time. Once more he saw Anakin’s face, ravaged by hate, the yellow eyes of the Sith staring back and him, having consumed everything in the other man which Obi-Wan once loved. _A mirage in the desert_ , he told himself even the monster stretched out its hand, silently begging Obi-Wan for help.

And as always, he turned away.

It was with supreme effort of will that Obi-Wan pushed the phantom away. It was his constant companion in the desert, so he couldn’t push it far, but now was not the time. Now he had to be here, present, in this moment alone. An army had been assembled below them and now was the time for action.

Later he would once more attempt to face his demons.

Later, after Ahsoka had left and he could go out into the desert to scream where no one could hear him.

 “Master.” Ahsoka’s touch was light on his shoulder. She pointed towards where A’Yark, chieftain of the largest clan of Tuskens that remained on this side of the Dune Sea, rapidly ascended the cliff-face towards their position. She was spry and sure-footed despite decades under the blazing, unforgiving suns and the harsh, relentless sands that made up Tatooine. She knew him only as Ben. A wizard, she called him, a shaman of the air, and Obi-Wan supposed there were worse things to be called.

She stopped a handful of paces from where the two Jedi stood at the edge of the cliff. There was no disapproval in her stance, she probably assumed that Ben, the shaman of the air, was calling the winds to him at this very moment.

Obi-Wan spread his hands in welcome. “Are we almost ready?” he asked her. Ahsoka stood a half-pace behind him. Her twin lightsabers had marked her as a wizard as well, to the Tuskens, and Obi-Wan knew that rumor had spread like a sudden sandstorm among A’Yark’s people that the Wizard of the Wastes had an apprentice.

He supposed it was true, in a way, even if he was no one’s master anymore.

“We wait for a dozen more from Eastern tribe,” the chief said. “Soon. You will know.”

And then she departed again.

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka watched her climb back down the cliff face. “These Tuskens are a ruthless, uncompromising people, Master,” Ahsoka said.

Obi-Wan could feel the gazes of the Tusken warriors upon the two Jedi. He was still unsure of the wisdom of this action, but A’Yark had spoken to him of the increasing incursions of Jabba’s men, he knew that the protection fees Jabba demanded of the moisture farmers in this area had increased exponentially, Ahsoka had suggested they try and help, and Obi-Wan was tired to doing nothing.

He was all-but forty years old and trying not to be bitter about it. He was stuck at the very edge of the galaxy, on an impoverished, forgotten, slavery-run planet, all the skills and talents he had honed within himself over decades of study and discipline going to waste while he waited. For what, he was not sure yet, except that he couldn’t leave young Luke Skywalker alone in a galaxy controlled by the Sith. It felt like he was wasting time.

Ahsoka had visited him and seen what he had seen. We have to do something, she’d said, sounding so much like Obi-Wan’s former Padawan, that he could no longer deny the wish to act that he tried to bury in the desert.

_One day, Master,_ a blond-haired little boy had once sworn to him, blue eyes fierce and bright, _I will visit all the stars in the entire galaxy, and free all the slaves I find there_. Obi-Wan had smiled then and gently advised him that the galaxy was a very big place, that it was not up to one person to right all its wrongs.

But now, seeing the pain and suffering here, on the world that had once been Anakin’s home, Obi-Wan was tired of doing nothing. “For Anakin,” he murmured, his throat closing as that painful name passed his lips. He felt Ahsoka’s start of surprise behind him, her sudden swell of bittersweet remembrance that her master’s memory always brought.

“For Anakin,” she agreed, and then she pointed past his face, out towards the desert. “Look, there they are.”

Obi-Wan nodded and checked to make sure his lightsaber was securely fastened to his belt. “And so it begins,” he said, as a Tusken horn split the air to announce the last tribe’s arrival and the warriors below them began to prepare their milling banthas for the fight to come.

The two Jedi readied themselves at the edge of the cliff.

“Don’t die, Master,” Ahsoka had the cheek to utter.

“I will certainly do my best,” he assured her, noting the look of relief on her face at his familiar, dry response which she did her best to hide from him.

He didn’t command her to be careful as well. He didn’t want her to feel any doubt in his faith at her abilities. Ahsoka had survived Order 66, she had survived years without the structure of the Jedi Order. Ana– _he_ had trained her well. She would be fine.

He must not have hidden his sudden fear from her well enough, for she stopped and turned back towards him, her eyes wide. Her fierce, sudden swell of love for him burned between them before she hastily brought her emotions back under control. Faint embarrassment colored her cheeks.

“Love is a wonderful gift, Ahsoka,” he told her gently, and aware that he was sometimes hard to read he added, “I have always considered you my family as well.” She was the closest thing he had ever had to a daughter.

“I know, Master,” she said, relieved. And then she turned and jumped off the cliff.

Obi-Wan followed her.

The two Jedi landed smoothly on the canyon floor, hundreds of meters below them. Their hoods had flown back and as they stood the rising Tatooine suns caught on Ahsoka’s montrals and Obi-Wan’s auburn hair, turning it to burnished gold. The Tuskens gathered below were stunned into silence. Without a sound they parted like a wave to allow the Jedi to pass, and Obi-Wan knew how they must look to these tribal people.

Like two gods walking amongst them.

It was a relief when they reached A’Yark. The chief was used to Jedi. From what Obi-Wan could gather from her passable, if rusty, Basic she had once known Sharad Hett, who had trained in the Temple with Obi-Wan.

She was neither in awe nor afraid of Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, although she was properly cautious. Obi-Wan even suspected her of using him as a cautionary tale to keep the younger, unruly members of her tribe in order.

She nodded at them as they approached. “We are in position,” she said, and then glanced behind her. Obi-Wan couldn’t tell her expression from the wrappings all Tuskens wore to hide their faces from the suns, but he could feel her annoyance and rueful resignation in the Force and read it in her stance. “Well,” she amended, “as ready as we will ever be.” She paused and then, as if unwilling to admit this, added, “We are not strong, as we once were.”

Obi-Wan felt Ahsoka stiffen, the words hitting too close to home. Here they stood, the last of the Jedi Order which had once numbered in the tens of thousands and which had guarded the Republic for generations. They were no longer what they once were either.

“We do the best we can with what we have,” Obi-Wan reminded himself, and the women on either side of him nodded.

“Your people are fierce and strong,” Ahsoka told A’Yark. “And we are with you.”

A’Yark nodded once and gripped her gadarffi, the weapon all Tuskens used. “Then we will make war on this Hutt,” she said grimly, and turned to raise the war cry of her people.

The war of attrition that Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had been slowly perpetuating against Jabba’s slave cartel had finally driven the Hutt from his palace in Mos Espa. Now, the crime lord was down to half the strength he’d possessed before Obi-Wan’s arrival on the planet, and he had relocated permanently out into the desert, taking up residence in what had once been a B’omarr monastery. From Obi-Wan’s studies, the B’omarr Order had worshiped the Force through meditation and removal from wordly affairs. They had been some of the best scholars in the galaxy, and the Jedi Master knew that they would not approve of Jabba’s presence in their home.

He had a feeling that they would have preferred Jabba there though than back in Mos Espa, running a slave cartel that spanned the entire planet.

Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, A’Yark and another Tusken chief, A’Ren took point. As soon as the scouts gave the word, the four of them were moving stealthily across the desert, keeping to the shadows offered by rocks and cliff sides.

Jabba’s Palace, and the wide, flat plain before it, were in view by the time Obi-Wan saw the transport ships they were aiming for. Another batch of slaves to serve in the crime lord’s home, and to be sold to Crimson Dawn or Black Sun for a tidy sum. He wondered where these people had been taken from, if they would ever find their way home again, and if they had had anyone they’d left behind, who would miss them like a part of themselves had been cut away.

He took a deep breath and centered himself in the Force. He could feel Ahsoka, alert and tense, beside him. “Mind in the moment,” he reminded her, and she nodded. He felt her familiar Force presence twine with his as she opened herself to the Force and centered her awareness.

“Ready when you are, Master,” she murmured, and Obi-Wan wondered if she realized that she never called him by his name anymore, just by the title she had once reserved almost-exclusively for Ana- _him_. As though trying to hold onto a part of him even now. Ahsoka nudged him and he could feel A’Yark’s eyes upon him.

Obi-Wan wanted to groan in frustration at his own inattention. After all these years, and he could still not let go. Inelegantly, too quickly for someone who claimed a mastery in the Force, he let the thoughts go through and away from him. Later, he promised himself.

The caravan was fifty kilometers and closing. “Now,” he said calmly. A’Yark raised a hand, snapped it down again, and a hail of blaster fire encased the caravan. She yelled a war cry, A’Ren echoing her, and then they ran for the caravan, waving their gadarffi sticks.

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka sprinted for the transports, soon outpacing the two Tuskens, the Force lending them speed and endurance. Obi-Wan lost his cloak somewhere on the sands, promising himself to search for it later. He didn’t have so many spares that he could afford letting one go to waste. Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber, the beam of blue light blazing to life with its familiar snap-hiss, and he felt the world grow clearer around him, the focus of the kyber crystal letting him see brief glimpses of the future, of the choices before him. Ahsoka’s twin-white blades ignited beside him. The two Jedi launched themselves into the air and landed, together, on the lead transport ship. There were shouts of surprise from the open-faced skiffs on either side, the transports’ security detail, and they swung their cannons in an overlapping crossfire towards the two Jedi.

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka sunk deep within the Force, blocking the hail of gunfire even as the transports slowed to almost a crawl.

Ahsoka jumped away from him, landing on the skiff before her, dispatching the cannon and Jabba’s henchmen with ease. Obi-Wan focused his attention on the other skiff, re-directing blaster bolts back towards their owners and towards the cannon, until the skiff was a smoking ruin and Jabba’s men were either dead or had fled back towards the palace.

They didn’t make it far. The Tusken sharpshooters stationed high on the cliff above them picked them off one by one. Obi-Wan could feel their deaths in the Force and it saddened him, even as he knew that they had committed evil acts and Tatooine would be a better, safer, place without them.

Ahsoka jumped onto the second transport and Obi-Wan was already running towards the back of the first. As one, they jumped off the backs, slicing cleaning through the twin turbine engines and the repulsor-field generator housing. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka landed on the hard sand in a low crouch, lightsabers still drawn. As the last transport barreled past them, they spun, slicing cleanly through the engines of the third. All three land transports jerked to a halt, plumes of black smoke drifting up from the backs of their vehicles.

Obi-Wan neatly clipped his lightsaber to his belt, distantly aware of Ahsoka, lightsabers still lit, guarding his back. He reached out to the Force, concentrated, and then waved a hand. The coded panels on the sides of the vehicles, locked from the outside to keep the prisoners trapped within, turned green and the doors slid open.

Wide, fearful eyes of men, women and children stared back at him. Obi-Wan put on his most reassuring smile, wondering how much time he had before the Tuskens set upon them and even he would be unable to prevent what happened to these people next. “It’s alright,” he said softly. “You can come out now.”

A’Yark and A’Ren were upon them now, ignoring the prisoners in favor of exacting a bloody vengeance upon the drivers and armored guards of the vehicles, all of whom were attempting to flee. Their death screams cause most of the prisoners to flinch back from Obi-Wan in fear.

“Come,” he said, slight impatience entering his tone. “We don’t have much time.”

One human girl, braver than most, looked from him to Ahsoka and her white lightsabers. “Are you a Jedi?” she whispered, and there was awe in her voice.

Pain lanced through him again, regret and self-recrimination striking him a blow square in the gut. It felt like all the air had been driven from his lungs. Was he still a Jedi? How could he ever claim to be a Jedi while Palpatine ruled the galaxy all while he sat on this rock and hid from the evil being perpetuated?

“Yes,” Ahsoka said from behind him. “This is Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, and he is the best there is.” There was pride in her voice, a pride that Obi-Wan knew he didn’t deserve.

“Yes, well,” he said, uncomfortable with praise in any form, “we do really need to get going. Do any of you know how to fly transports?” And the little girl, who hadn’t looked away from him once since Ahsoka’s proclamation, slowly crawled out of the huddle group of people and took his hand.

“I do,” said a middle-aged Twi’lek male.

“Where are we going?” demanded a fearful woman clutching a small child in her arms.

And then they were all clambering out of the vehicles, crowding around Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and all talking at once. “It’s a secret,” he heard Ahsoka say, in between the babbling of dozens of voices and languages, and he turned to find her bending over the little girl who’d come out first. She was showing the girl her lightsabers and nodding in Obi-Wan’s direction. The little girl looked very serious as she nodded back.

Obi-Wan tried to speak over the voices but no one listened to him. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, already seeing the Tuskens gathering in the distance. A’Yark and A’Ren were eyeing the milling crowd and fingering their gadarffis, and this was only going to end badly if he didn’t get these people moving. Well, he wasn’t a General…. _hadn’t been_ a General, for nothing. These people would be on their way towards Mos Espa and the ship Bail had sent for them in less than a minute, or his name wasn’t Ben Kenobi.

And they were.

Ahsoka’s eyes – grown tired and sad in the years since Obi-Wan last said goodbye to her, just before the Republic fell – were lit with amusement. She grinned in Obi-Wan’s direction. “How many transports of would-be slaves have we intercepted and freed now, Master?” She shaded her eyes as she watched the three ships disappear over the horizon in a cloud of dust.

“Dozens.”

“Hundreds!”

Obi-Wan shook his head fondly. “That may be a bit of an exaggeration, young one.”

She made a face at him. “I’m sure Bail doesn’t think so. He’s had to feed them all. He told me he had no idea what he’d been thinking when he expected you to retire.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, as expected, but the small drop in his stomach told him that her words hit uncomfortably close to home. It had felt like a retirement, a _permanent_ retirement, until Ahsoka’s presence convinced him that he could still do something. He waited with every appearance of patience as the Tuskens began to gather around the Jedi and their chiefs once more, while inside he felt awash in misgiving.

Such a blatant, open move as he and Ahsoka were taking right now bore a high probability of making its way back to the Empire; to Palpatine…and to Vader.

Even if none of the people they had rescued the past few months spoke of Jedi, even if tales of this day failed to spread among the moisture farmers surrounding the Dune Sea, even if Jabba himself didn’t bring in Vader just to get rid of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi hiding in his desert…well, someone, somewhere was bound to say something to the wrong person.

Obi-Wan would almost stake odds on it.

A’Yark nodded at him, and Obi-Wan turned towards Jabba’s Palace, knowing that he was being watched by all those within its walls. He tapped his throat, where a magni-vocorecorder had been placed. “Honorable Jabba,” he called out, voice echoing over the sand and the wind. “Even now, we offer you terms of surrender.”

It came as no surprise to any of them, when Jabba’s only response was to open his gates, releasing his own army of gamorrean thugs, human and rodian mercenaries on dewbacks, and fast moving, and trained attack squills.

Ahsoka ignited her lightsabers. “So much for negotiation,” she said.

Obi-Wan ignited his own blue blade and brought it around in the opening move of his Form, the two fingers of his non-dominant hand pointed forwards for balance. “We will see what he says after the battle is won,” he promised her, and then their enemies were upon them.

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka moved as a team. They had known each other for many years and were as close as two Jedi could be, able to anticipate each other’s movements and cover each other’s backs. Obi-Wan had fought beside many Jedi over the years and he moved as fluidly with Ahsoka as he had once done with his own master, Qui-Gon Jinn.

The battle was both exceedingly short and exceedingly long. One moment the air was filled with blaster bolts, carbon discharge, the screams of the dying and the howls of the dewbacks. Obi-Wan was back to back with Ahsoka, the two of them cutting a clean swath through their enemies. And it was almost like having Anakin back again…

And then Ahsoka would move in a direction he hadn’t anticipated, or she would be a fraction too slow or too fast, and he would be thrown off balance once more, forever reminded of Anakin’s absence. Obi-Wan and Anakin had fought as two halves of a single warrior and now that only Obi-Wan was left, he feared that it would forever feel like he was missing a part of himself.

The next moment, he stood inside Jabba’s palace, arms crossed, as he attempted to reason with the fetid miasma of evil that was the Hutt crime lord.

“Why don’t I just kill you now,” Jabba demanded through his interpreter.

Obi-Wan stroked his beard and arched an eyebrow. “That is, indeed, a possibility, Jabba, but we are hardly your most pressing concern.” He flicked a gaze over towards the window, outside of which thousands of Tuskens stood in sullen readiness. “An army stands outside your gates, ready to take this place apart stone by stone if we do not come out alive.” Obi-Wan let that sink in for a moment. Jabba was by no means stupid, but he relied too much on his belief that greed was the sole motivating factor in others. He didn’t seem able to comprehend that the Tuskens had no concept of monetary wealth, or of owning others. He would be unable to bribe them or threaten them. “We are you best chance of disbanding the Tuskens peacefully,” Obi-Wan summarized, amused that such a notion caused revulsion in the Hutt.

“And then there is the fact every last shipment of slaves you’ve attempted to move on Tatooine has been stopped,” Ahsoka said, the calm personality of Bail Organa’s Fulcrum agent in her voice. “Do you expect that Crimson Dawn will still do business with you after this?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Your days running a slave empire on Tatooine are over, Jabba. The only choice before you now, is where you decided to go from here.”

The smaller Hutt seated on a dais just below Jabba’s stirred at these words. Rotta the Hutt, Jabba’s young son, was older and wider than when Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had encountered him last. It had been many years, but the young Hutt seemed to recognize Ahsoka. He watched her carefully with his yellow eyes the entire time the two Jedi negotiated with his father.

Now he turned his head and said something in Huttese. Obi-Wan had a basic understanding of the language from listening to Anakin slip into it during their many years together, but Rotta’s accent was difficult to navigate. He got the general gist however and felt momentary surprise and a faint whisper of hope.

The Force truly worked in mysterious ways.

Jabba grumbled at Rotta’s words but at last he turned back to the Jedi. “My son speaks wisdom,” the Hutt rumbled. “He has not forgotten that you saved his life,” he said, looking at Ahsoka, “and he says that it is time we moved past relying on slaves for our wealth. He says that Tatooine is big enough for the both of us.” Now Jabba turned and pinned Obi-Wan with his malevolent, sickly-yellow gaze. “Is that true, Master Jedi? Is Tatooine big enough for us both?”

Obi-Wan looked evenly back. He wondered if the Hutt would keep his word. He wondered if even now, a message was being sent to Palpatine, informing him of Obi-Wan’s whereabouts. He took a deep breath and tried to release his fears to the Force. With Ahsoka beside him, it was easier than usual. “I believe it is, Great Jabba,” he said, and bowed before departing, Ahsoka trailing in his wake.

He took a deep breath of dry, dusty air, letting the suns bathe his skin, as soon as they stepped outside the dank, fetid atmosphere of Jabba’s dungeon-like palace. Ahsoka waved at A’Yark to let the chieftain know that all was well, and the two Jedi watched as the Tuskens dispersed, clans breaking off from the main host and disappearing behind dunes and around rocks in small groups of four and five.

Ahsoka made a face back at the palace as they started walking out into the desert. “Do you really think Jabba will honor his word?” she asked. They both knew that if Jabba entered Tusken land again, nothing Obi-Wan could do would stop them from fighting, and most likely being eradicated in the process. Tuskens rarely gathered in great numbers and it had been the work of almost a year to negotiate enough to get this many tribes together.

“Stranger things have happened,” Obi-Wan admitted.

Ahsoka snorted. “Yeah, mostly to us,” she said, and there was the cheeky girl that Obi-Wan remembered from before everything had fallen apart.

He smiled at her. “Lunch, I think,” he said, and they headed for home.

Ahsoka always laughed at Obi-Wan’s culinary endeavors. He would readily admit that cooking was not his area of expertise, but the fried womp rat and spiced vegetables he’d managed to save for her visit was some of his best work yet.

Ahsoka chewed gamely with an expectant look on her face, which cleared after several seconds. “Not bad, Master,” she said.

“Damned by faint praise,” Obi-Wan returned, wryly, sipping the blue milk which Beru still sometimes brought him.

“Oh, is there some of Beru’s delicious cheese?” Ahsoka demanded, and Obi-Wan sighed and passed it over.

 “So, young one,” Obi-Wan said, as they cleaned up from dinner. “Tell me about this mission Bail is sending you on.”

Ahsoka polished a bowl and handed it over to him. “It’s something Artoo and I heard rumors about for a while. Several weeks ago, I received confirmation from a trusted source that the rumors were true.” She turned to face him, face serious. “Do you remember the Zillo beast, Master?”

Obi-Wan flashed back to the aftermath of massive destruction in the Senate District on Coruscant. He remembered Mace’s anger and Anakin’s stories. “I do,” he said slowly.

“Well, Palpatine didn’t kill it. He’s been experimenting on it. On _her_.” The disgust in Ahsoka’s voice was clear.

“Why? What is he hoping to gain from all this?”

“I’m not sure,” Ahsoka admitted. “But Riyo – you remember her, don’t you Master? She was the Senator for Pantora for a while – said that her sources report an Imperial base on Orto Plutonia. Where they conduct scientific experiments.”

The washing up done, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka moved towards the small sitting area. The suns were setting through the high windows, washing the sand-colored walls in colors of red and orange and gold. Obi-Wan sat down on the bench, feeling older than his years. The harsh climate and double ultraviolet radiation present on this planet aged humans who chose to live here. And most other species as well. He stroked his beard in thought, his gaze going over to the simple wooden chest he’d placed in one corner of the room. “The hide of the Zillo beast was incredibly tough, if I remember correctly. Able to withstand even a blow from a lightsaber. Perhaps Palpatine seeks to re-create such protection for those who serve under him.”

“That was my thought as well.” Ahsoka moved to stand next to Obi-Wan, hands clasped loosely behind her as she stared out the window at Tatooine under sunset. “Can it be done?”

Obi-Wan looked up at her, seeing Anakin in her stance, in the way she single-mindedly pursued her goals until their end. A sharp stab of bitterness hit him then and the looked away from her, moving towards the wooden chest. “I suspect not,” he told her. “Nevertheless, I’ll sleep easier knowing that the possibility is out of Palpatine’s reach.” He opened the lid and felt around inside until he found what he was looking for. “I have something here for you. I assume that you’ll be freeing the Zillo beast, you and Senator Chuchi, and for that you will need these.”

And with those words he withdrew Ahsoka’s old green and yellow lightsabers from the chest.

She had turned at his words and now her eyes widened, and her breath caught as she beheld the slender, silver cylinders in Obi-Wan’s grasp. “I can’t believe you kept them,” she whispered, and she reached out a hand.

For a moment Obi-Wan thought that she would truly take them, that she would re-claim her path as a Jedi once more, but the moment passed and even as he watched the regret and pain flicker across her face, she dropped her hand and shook her head. She smiled at Obi-Wan, trying to take some of the sting out of it. “I’m sorry Master, but those aren’t mine anymore. I’m not a Jedi any longer and besides,” she patted the long, flat handles of her new, silver-white lightsabers, “these suit me just fine.”

Obi-Wan nodded and put the old lightsabers away. He had hoped, but not truly expected her to take the blades. Ahsoka’s departure from the Order had been hard for Obi-Wan, harder still for Ahsoka herself and hardest of all on Anakin, who had blamed himself for her leaving. And probably, deep-down, blamed _Ahsoka_ for leaving him. She had always known him well, and on some level, she probably knew what his reaction had been.

Obi-Wan suspected that his and Anakin’s former Padawan still harbored a lot of guilt over leaving the Jedi on the eve of their destruction.

Her guilt was misplaced. She’d returned to them eventually and she was leading half of the 501st when Order 66 happened. Moreover, her choices were her own. Whether she had stayed or left, the Jedi would have fallen…and Anakin would have fallen. It was Anakin’s choice to walk down a dark path. Ahsoka was not responsible for her master’s choices.

Nor was she responsible for his “death,” which was what Obi-Wan had led her to believe actually happened to him. She would face Vader eventually, Obi-Wan was almost certain of it. But not yet, and so she must live with her misplaced guilt a little longer.

Guilt was rarely logical, as Obi-Wan well knew, and it was something he could not get her to see until she was ready to let go of it herself. He put the lightsabers back in the wooden chest. They would keep. “Very well,” he agreed, “but surely you would have no objection to a bit of mediation with one of your old master’s?”

Ahsoka’s smile was relieved and as brilliant as the first sun bursting over Tatooine’s horizon.

“Of course, Master, you never even have to ask.”

 “The setting suns were magnificent as master and grand-padawan exited Obi-Wan’s modest dwelling. The suns blazed deepest gold and fiery orange and they lit up the sky in pinks and reds, spreading all the way out to purple and blue-violet where the sky was almost dark. The sand was warm underfoot, firm from being windswept on top of the cliff where Obi-Wan’s house stood, but soft enough to not be uncomfortable.

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka took positions side by side, hands placed loosely on knees and faces warmed by the suns as they faced west, out towards the Dune Sea. For a while Obi-Wan allowed himself to drift on the currents of the Force, feeling life in all its many and often surprising forms surrounding him. It came as almost a surprise when Ahsoka spoke. “Do you think the Zillo beast knew, Master?”

Obi-Wan kept his eyes closed and listened to the rise and fall of her voice. “Knew what?”

“That Palpatine was evil?” Ahsoka paused, but Obi-Wan knew that she was still deep in thought. “We were wrong to try and stop it. She was trying to save us.”

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan allowed. “Perhaps it knew, and perhaps we were wrong.” He smiled, seeing the humor of the situation even through the pang of regret. “All those Jedi Masters protecting a Sith Lord.”

Ahsoka sighed. “If only we had known,” she whispered.

“It is a lesson for all of us,” Obi-Wan agreed. “To be mindful of the Force, in all its forms.”

“Perhaps her reward for her help is that now I will save her.”

“If she is even there,” Obi-Wan cautioned. “Be mindful of your emotions, young one, and see what is truly before you not what you wish to see.” But he smiled all the same. “It is a good thought.”

 Later, as they readied for bed, Ahsoka wandered into the living area where Obi-Wan was camped out on the couch. His bedroom was below ground, warm during the cold of Tatooine’s nights, but it didn’t look like she found it to her comfort. Ahsoka shifted from foot to foot, looking almost like Anakin when he had been involved in some mischief.

“I don’t sleep well anymore,” she admitted, looking down as though ashamed of such a failing.

Obi-Wan silently lifted up the blankets and moved over to make room for her. She glanced up at him, eyes wide, for but a moment, before sliding under the blankets and snuggling up to him, almost poking his eye out with the tip of one of her montrals, before she got comfortable and buried her face in his chest.

“Warm,” she sighed happily, and Obi-Wan laughed.

“Happy to oblige,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and feeling her relax in his embrace. He tried not to crush her head tails, knowing that although they were not as sensitive as a Twi’lek’s lekku, they still hurt if squeezed. He held her gently, carefully stroking her back and willing her to fall asleep.

He felt himself drifting off as well, but first he had to tell her something. It was vital that she know. Sometimes he thought if he had just told Anakin sooner…

“I am very proud of you, Ahsoka,” he whispered against her forehead. “Never forget that.”

And he drifted off into the darkness.

Obi-Wan dreamed.

He knew it was a dream because for the first time since the Republic fell, he was at peace, as though a great weight had been lifted from him.

He was also…warm. And comfortable. Two things he didn’t usually associate with Tatooine.

But he was honestly too tired to care. With a small, contented sigh he rolled over, stretching languidly in the embrace of the person holding him, before burrowing deeper into the warmth.

“Comfortable, Master?” Anakin asked, sounding amused, the rumble of his voice vibrating pleasantly through Obi-Wan’s body and sleep-fuzzy brain.

Ah, yes, he remembered where they were now. Orto Plutonia. Negotiating between Chieftain Thi-Sen of the Talz and the Pantorans, led by Chairman Cho and Senator Chuchi. Cold, icy, inhospitable planet.

He and Anakin had fallen asleep next to each other for warmth. Then Anakin slung an arm around Obi-Wan and now they were all-but molded to one another, huddled together for warmth. “Quiet, you,” Obi-Wan mumbled, more asleep than awake, and Anakin’s silent laughter shook them both.

“Ugh,” Obi-Wan groaned. “Do try and get some sleep, Anakin. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

And he fell deeper into sleep.

This time he was running, running as fast as he could. Darkness surrounded him, thick and viscous, a fog of evil which slowed him down. Behind him the monster came, the only sound the breathing if its respirator in the pitch dark. And then it spoke.

“You are mine, Obi-Wan. You have always been mine,” the monster rumbled, its breathing never changing as it inexorably moved after Obi-Wan. Darkness was its friend and constant companion, loneliness and pain its meat and mead, and it would not stop. It would not stop! Obi-Wan ran and ran, but the monster was always behind him, always coming closer, catching up no matter what Obi-Wan did or which direction he turned…

“Obi-Wan!” a voice screamed, anguish and rage sending out a psychic blast that had the Jedi Master crying out in horror…

And Obi-Wan woke up, Ahsoka’s arms tight around him and his body covered in a cold sweat.

0o0o0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Cody makes an appearance as Vader’s right-hand man. We’ll get some POV from him later on. The point at which this story becomes AU is that – in my head at least, lol – Vader chose to investigate what Cody found in the cargo hold. In the original story, he didn’t. And so, due to a different choice, Vader ignored or missed the prodding from the Force, the tea was never discovered, Vader never began to investigate, and he only saw Obi-Wan again on the Death Star, fourteen years later. 
> 
> Also, we have some insight into Obi-Wan’s grief while living on Tatooine. He’s not quite there yet, not the wise and accepting Ben Kenobi we see in ‘A New Hope’. He’s still raw around the edges, still having nightmares and finding that peace eludes him. Still torn apart from Anakin’s fall to the Dark Side. And Ahsoka, of course, is somewhere between where we leave her in ‘The Clone Wars’ and find her again in ‘Rebels’.


	3. A Princess...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader and the ISB have some questions for Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two, Part One

The Far Dark Shore

Chapter Two, Part One

A Princess…

 

“As I stated in response to your initial query, Chief Investigator Axvering,” Bail said, “the shipment departed as planned from Aldraig in the Alderaan sector.” He shrugged, affecting a nonchalance he did not feel. “What happened after, I have no idea.”

Bail Prestor Organa, of the Royal House of Organa, Prince and Senator of Alderaan, and secret founder of dozens of rebel cells which he hoped to one day turn into an Alliance capable of toppling the Empire, felt the cold arm of the law attempt to clamp shut around him.

That the rule of law had been utterly debased did not matter. Power was vested in the hands of the corrupt, and he feared very much that this could be the day his illegal actions finally caught up with him. Briefly his mind flickered to his five-year-old daughter, Leia, and how she would deal with this Imperial bureaucrat. She would raise her chin and firmly tell him that a Princess of the House Organa would never do anything wrong. Even as she had cookie crumbs on her cheeks from a blatant pilfering of the cookie jars in one of the palace’s kitchens.

He almost smiled. He saw so much of Breha in her, but her quick-thinking mind and her ability to bluff her way through any situation was definitely something she inherited from her brilliant birth parents.

Bail internally sighed and brought himself back to the present when Investigator Axvering began tapping his right foot impatiently on the thick carpet in Bail’s office. The Alderaanian Senator raised an eyebrow at such blatant rudeness, which seemed to have no effect on his unwelcome visitor.

ISB Agent and Chief Investigator Archibald Axvering was a corpulent human male just over the hill of middle age. His close-set watery-blue eyes were mean-looking, and his mouth seemed set in a permanent sneer. He had been with Republic intelligence services since before the Clone Wars and Bail had watched his rising career with no small amount of trepidation. Axvering bent the law to suit his own purposes and he had no qualms about manufacturing evidence. He had been Palpatine’s creature through and through for many years.

Now the man from the Imperial Security Bureau stared down at Bail with cold eyes. “I find it curious that several shipments originating from the Alderaan sector have fallen into rebel hands,” he said. And there it was; Palpatine’s ever-present eye on the House of Organa, his suspicions resulting from the days of the Republic and Bail’s close ties with the Jedi Order.

Bail felt anger rise in him and he remembered Leia. “And I find it curious, Chief Investigator,” he bit off every word, “that the security of Imperial space lanes is not better enforced.” He got to his feet, his taller height forcing the ISB agent to look up at him. “Alderaan has always been known to provide aid to those in need throughout the galaxy. Our ships routinely fly to mid and outer-rim systems and their safety has been assured by the Imperial Navy. Perhaps you should be directing your questions to them, because rest assured, I will be. Alderaan will not idly stand by while shipments of food and supplies are not adequately protected so that they arrive at their intended destination.”

A brief flash of annoyance crossed Chief Investigator Axvering’s florid face. Bail took satisfaction in it. No, the ISB agent didn’t like that at all.

Bail recorded every official conversation he had in his office. And make no mistake, he would be filing a formal complaint with the Imperial Navy. There, that ought to at least stall them a little.

“I can assure you, Senator Organa…” Axvering began, but Bail cut him off.

“Can you really, Chief Investigator? Have you brought this matter up with the High Command?”

“Moff Tarkin –”

“-would be most interested in any lax security caused as a result of Imperial Navy carelessness or mismanagement, I’m sure,” Bail interrupted him again. He came around the desk and heartily shook the man’s hand even though it made him faintly nauseous. “Thank you very much for bringing this matter to my attention, Chief Investigator. You can be assured that Alderaan will do everything in its power to make sure that the proper Imperial authorities are made aware of this continuing and most egregious situation.”

And with those words, he evicted the odious man from his office.

After he was notified that the ISB agent’s ship had taken off without incident, Bail dropped heavily into his hair and put his head in his hands. The noose was tightening. Scrutiny over his actions was growing ever more intense and he was nowhere near ready – the Rebellion was nowhere near ready. Ahsoka had told him just six months ago that they were a decade away from open warfare with the Empire, if that.

Briefly he wondered how she and Master Kenobi were getting on with their mission on Tatooine. It was a laudable goal, finally eradicating slavery from the planet. Just because it was in the Outer Rim and distant from any form of adequate law and order didn’t mean that such practices should be allowed. Bail would do anything in his power to help the two Jedi, despite all the extra work it entailed.

There were so few Jedi, so few people capable and willing to act in the name of what was right these days, that he wouldn’t say no to anyone who did. Beside it was Master Kenobi who needed his help. If there was one person in the galaxy Bail absolutely trusted – besides Breha and Leia – it was him. The Jedi Master was a friend, a dear friend, and he’d even allowed Bail to raise Leia, something that spoke of Obi-Wan’s trust and faith in him more than anything else.

As if drawn by his thoughts, there was a light patter of feet outside his door, immediately followed by quick, imperious knocking. Bail smiled. “Come in, Leia.”

An adorable little face surrounded by a halo of soft, dark-brown hair peeped around the half-open door. “Hello Father,” Leia said, smiling at him hopefully.

Bail chuckled indulgently. “Alright then, come on in.” And she flew into his arms. “Oomph,” Bail said, catching the ball of energy that was his daughter. “Did you get bigger from yesterday?”

Leia laughed. “No, Father. Of course not!”

He stood up and swung her into his arms. “’Of course not’?” he teased. “And how do you know that? Did you measure yourself today? Perhaps you did grow over night. It’s been known to happen,” he said mysteriously, wagging his eyebrows in a way that had once delighted a very young Leia.

Even now she giggled at him and shook her head in the world-weary way young children often did towards the adults around them. Bail shifted her weight to a more comfortable position and moved over towards the sliding doors that covered one wall of his office. Pressing a code, the doors slid open soundlessly, Bail stepped out onto the balcony with Leia in his arms, and she gasped in delight for outside was a wonderland.

Aldera lay before them, white-capped mountain peaks including the spire-like Appenza, surrounded Alderaan’s capital city on all sides like silent, majestic sentinels, warding it from evil. Or so Bail hoped, anyway. A foolish hope, he knew, but the old legends of Alderaan spoke of the moutains rising up during the ancient Sith Wars, and sometimes he thought that was more than just a metaphor. 

Something cold and wet touched his nose and then his cheeks, and both Bail and Leia looked up. Snowflakes danced downwards from the silver-grey sky. Leia laughed in delight, stretching out her hands to catch them as they twirled around her. Small white flakes landed in her dark hair and she laughed again as several of them landed on her nose, tickling her. Her dark eyes were bright with wonder her at the snow-covered world.

“Pretty,” she said quietly, putting her small arms back around Bail’s neck.

Bail nodded, glancing around at the sleek, silver skyscrapers, rounded to blend in the with environment, the softly glowing street lamps, the winding stone streets and quiet hovercars and the rippling reflection off the many lakes and streams that surrounded Aldera. No matter how many years he lived here, no matter where he went in the galaxy, he was forever amazed at the beauty of his home. Nothing he had seen, no matter how grand or opulent or rare, would ever compare. And Aldera was never more beautiful than right now, silver and snow-white.

“Snow belongs on Alderaan,” he whispered, repeating something his mother used to say, and Leia nodded solemnly as though he had imparted a piece of great wisdom to her.

“Snow, snow, snow,” she said happily, and then squirmed in his arms until he put her down. She raced to the edge of the balcony and stood on her tiptoes to look over the side. “Can we go down and play?” she asked him excitedly.

Bail smiled indulgently. He could deny his daughter nothing. She was his pride and joy, his hope for the future. For her, he would do anything. He opened his mouth to tell her ‘yes, of course,’ when he froze, something catching the corner of his eye. Someone was sprinting up the main walkway towards the palace, sprinting for all they were worth. The slender woman skidded on a patch of snow, almost tumbling over, and righted herself with a couple of choice curse words which filtered up even towards the heights where Bail and Leia were. Then she continued on, charging up the hill, brown hair flying haphazardly behind her.

Bail had known Sheltay Retrac for many years. She was one of his most trusted Senatorial aides, and a personal friend of Breha. If she was running towards the palace then something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

There was a roar of a ship’s engines, loud in the quiet of snow-covered Aldera, and an Imperial shuttle shot just over the tip of the palace. It came far closer than any ship was allowed, the Alderaanian escort ships hard-pressed to catch up and obviously too afraid of whoever flew the shuttle to fire any warning shots.

Bail could feel his suddenly panicked heartrate, the cold sweat that broke out over his skin, the sudden dizziness and sick feeling of dread that churned in his stomach. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath as the shuttle banked hard to the left, circled upwards at an angle that was frankly impossible to maintain without an outstanding knowledge of how that particular ship handled, and then folded upwards as it began its rapid descent towards the lawn right outside the palace.

Where no ship was ever authorized to land.

Bail could feel Leia’s eyes on him, alternating with watching the ship, but he couldn’t meet her gaze. There was only one person in the galaxy that Bail had ever seen pull a stunt like that, and only one person who had the arrogance to match such reckless talent.

The door to his office burst open, but Bail didn’t even turn.

“Bail,” Breha’s voice was controlled but her husband could hear the fear beneath it. Not fear for herself, or for him, or even for their people. It was fear for their daughter.

“I know,” Bail said, mind darting through a hundred possibilities even as he watched the ramp on the Imperial shuttle lower and a monstrous figure encased in black armor descend. It, or rather he, paused at the bottom of the ramp, black cape billowing menacingly around him. 

And then he looked straight up at Bail.

The Senator for Alderaan, husband to Alderaan’s queen, father to Anakin Skywalker’s daughter, met the stare, knowing that the black-armored figure beneath him had sensed his presence in the Force. Master Kenobi had once told him that his presence in the Force was interesting and unusual. He hadn’t known what to make of that comment and had never pressed further.

Now he just hoped that his “interesting” presence was enough to mask that of his daughter’s.

He stared down at what had become of Anakin Skywalker and he nodded, once. “Come Leia,” he said quietly, holding out his hand to the little girl, who was shivering as though cold. She hadn’t looked over the edge since the shuttle landed, her attention all for her father and mother. Bail didn’t think the Sith Lord could see her from where he stood far below them.

Leia took his hand and Bail prayed she didn’t notice how clammy his was. He stepped back from the balcony’s edge and finally turned towards his wife and Sheltay Retrac. “It’s Darth Vader,” Sheltay said, unnecessarily. “I’m so sorry, Bail. I just received word from the ISD- _Perrilous_ that he was on his way down. They only entered the system five minutes ago.”

She sounded miserable as though she had failed him somehow, but Bail remembered Anakin Skywalker from the war, and how fast and unexpectedly he moved when he decided something needed to get done. Obi-Wan had told him that Anakin was as good as dead, that Darth Vader was all-but a separate person, but Bail didn’t think it was that simple. From what he had seen of Darth Vader, he had a lot of Anakin Skywalker’s mannerisms and ideas, albeit twisted and ruthless.

“It’s not your fault, Sheltay,” he said quietly, meeting her eyes to show his sincerity. “Thank you,” he said, and she took that as her cue to nod her head to him respectfully and depart.

Bail waited until the door closed behind her and then he reached over and switched off the recording device. Breha held out her arms and Leia flew into her mother’s embrace. “Oomph,” the queen said playfully, as Leia launched herself upwards. “You’re getting even bigger,” she teased.

“That’s what daddy said,” their daughter replied, but Leia didn’t smile this time. Bail wondered if she was sensing the tension in the room through latent Force sensitivity or just the natural ability of children to understand without words the mood of the adults around them.

He had secretly hoped that Leia inherited her mother’s gifts only, and not her father’s, but Master Yoda had warned him that both Leia, and her twin brother who had been sent to Tatooine with Obi-Wan, was extremely strong in the Force. She wasn’t around anyone else who could access the Force, and so Bail thought that she might not have touched it herself yet, but he remembered his daughter’s first few days, the way she always seemed to know when Master Obi-Wan was particularly upset and would cry until brought to him, and he wondered if she would sense something when brought before their unexpected guest.

“What do we do?” he asked Breha, every instinct he had telling him to snatch his wife and daughter and flee as far away as possible.

Leia buried her face in Breha’s simple, dark-blue receiving gown, and was silent.

Breha was silent as well, her dark eyes lost in thought as she paced slowly back and forth in Bail’s study. After she had paced for thirty seconds she asked, “And he’s here for the same reason the ISB man was?” 

“What other reason could he have?” Bail asked, feeling sick.

“What indeed,” Breha said quietly, as they both tried to remember anything at all that would bring the attention of a Dark Lord of the Sith down upon them.

The only thing they could think of was Leia.

Breha’s lips firmed and she stood up a little straighter. “It’s alright, beloved,” she said to their daughter. “We’re going to get a nice snack now and perhaps you’ll have dinner in your rooms tonight, and you won’t have to make an appearance in the Court.”

“Good,” Leia whispered, face still buried in Breha’s shoulder. His wife looked up at him and Bail could read the defiance and determination that burned in her gaze. 

“I’ll be back presently,” she told him, “and then we will see what the Emperor’s representative wishes from Alderaan.” 

Bail nodded and watched them go. His fingers itched towards the secret comm that he had hidden in one of the drawers of his desk. It was his only link towards an old friend. But Bail knew the danger was too great and was coming from an unseen direction at present. There was no need to jump at shadows. Until he found out what Vader wanted, he could not make a move in the right direction.

Still, he reached over his desk and tapped a series of commands into the keyboard. Barely thirty seconds later a series of whistles and beeps came over the internal speakers. They sounded concerned and indignant in equal measure. Bail couldn’t help the small smile that spread over his face. Padmé always did surround herself with odd and extraordinary beings.

“Hello old friend,” he greeted and R2-D2 whistled a greeting in reply. “Where are you at present?” Bail asked and watched the translation scrawl across the screen. “Good,” he said, when Artoo was finished. “Now, listen carefully, my friend. We may have a problem and if so, if the worst should happen, you know what to do then?”

Artoo beeped an emphatic answer and Bail nodded. Of course the loyal little droid knew exactly what to do.

 

0o0o0

 

Bail and Breha Organa stood side by side at one end of the vast entrance hallway as Lord Vader came towards them. Bail was dressed in his Senatorial best, hastily thrown over his simple shirt and tunic while in his office, and Breha was still in the blue receiving gown she had worn to hear the concerns of Alderaan’s citizens. She was supposed to attend a dinner at the University of Alderaan later, in her position as Minister for Education, but neither of them thought that likely now.

Bail could feel the stiff way his wife held herself, knew from the tilt of her chin that she was nervous and furiously trying to hide it – their daughter already had that same imperious tilt and Bail smiled every time he saw it – and he himself felt that familiar fear coiling in his gut.

They had so much to lose. Everything had depended on Alderaan not drawing the Empire’s eye until they were ready. And now they had drawn the worst sort of attention upon themselves. The eye of the Emperor’s pet, Lord Vader, himself.

The monster encased in a machine stalked towards them, black armor and faceplate creating an intimidating and frightening visage. His breathing filled the echoing hallway, bouncing off the elegant stone pillars and seeming to come from every direction at once. His cloak billowed behind him, moving without the aid of any natural wind, and his walk was fast and purposeful, eating up the distance between him and the Organas in a way which suggested he planned to simply walk right through them.

“Lord Vader,” Bail said, when the creature was no more than a handful of paces away, pitching his voice to take advantage of the acoustics of the room so that it sounded louder and more imposing than it usually did. “We are honored by your presence. What can Alderann do for the Empire?”

Bail remembered Anakin Skywalker, remembered Obi-Wan once telling him that Anakin respected loyalty in others, and demanded loyalty from those closest to him. Perhaps a reminder that Alderaan was a loyal member of the Empire would not go amiss.

Vader did not respond but continued to advance and Bail heard Breha’s small, caught breath of alarm. She tapped him on the back of the hand, hidden in the voluminous folds of her gown. Bail cleared his throat, was made aware of the lightsaber hanging at the Sith Lord’s waist as the cloak billowed back and forth. “May I present my wife, Queen Breha Antilles Organa. I don’t believe the two of you have ever met.” And he gestured towards Breha, who nodded regally towards Vader and held out her hand towards him.

Bail was as stunned by this action as the Dark Lord appeared to be. Vader stopped, stared at Breha, and for a long moment the only sound that filled the entrance hall was the steady rasp of his respirator.

“Welcome to Alderaan, Lord Vader,” Breha said, her eyes never leaving Vader’s faceplate. Vader stared at Breha, just stared at her. Even as Bail and the Dark Lord watched, the queen of Alderaan smiled, warm and gracious, and wiggled her fingers slightly. Her smile was radiant and it transformed her face into that of a beauty. Bail knew what Vader saw when he looked at her. Breha’s dark hair, dark eyes and olive skin, the similarity of her features to one long dead, her small stature and regal command; all were reminiscent of the late, departed Padmé Amidala.

Anakin Skywalker’s wife and the mother of his – or so Lord Vader hopefully still believed – unborn child.

Bail couldn’t believe his wife’s gall or the fact that she had remembered her similarity to Vader’s wife in this moment. He held his breath, heart pounding, and waiting to see what the Sith Lord’s reaction would be. Hopefully, what Breha had just done, the reminder of his past, would cause the Vader to pause in any murderous ideas he might have, instead of acting upon them. 

After what felt like an eternity, Vader took Breha’s hand in his own, black gloved one and briefly bowed his head over it, making no attempted to do anything else. He released her hand as quickly as courtesy would allow.

For a moment the galaxy seemed to hold its breath. Bail was distantly aware of a legion of stormtroopers filing in behind Vader, as well as two of the Inquisitorious, but all of his attention was focused on Leia’s birth father.

He understood, theoretically at least, the ruthlessness and disregard for all other life, that were the hallmarks of the Sith. Master Yoda had explained all this to him years ago. He knew that if Breha had overplayed her hand or even if Vader was just in a mood, both of Leia’s parents would end up dead this day. But he hoped, just this once, for Leia’s sake, that the Force was with them.

“Very well,” Vader said, in his deep, menacing voice. That was all he said.

Bail nodded at the stormtroopers behind Vader, who were making the queen’s bodyguards nervous. “Would you like me to show your men to the barracks?” he asked.

Vader’s implacable gaze swung from Breha to Bail. “No,” he said. “They will remain where they are.”

_Ah,_ thought Bail in resignation. _So that’s how it’s going to be._ He stood aside and motioned for Vader to follow him and the queen. “If you will follow me, Lord Vader.” He began walking without giving the Dark Lord a chance to disagree. Breha fell in beside him and pressed his hand once. He knew she agreed. If they were going to die, they would do so on their feet.

 

0o0o0

 

Vader walked out of Alderaan’s royal palace and into a clear, cold winter night. Above him, Alderaan’s lone moon was dark and the stars were brilliant in a velvet sky. The mountain peaks which surrounded Aldera glimmered in the starlight, shining pale and dim in the darkness. All around him, the lights of the capital city were kept pale and respectfully, shedding enough light to see but not interfering with nature’s own illumination. Night was respected, just as day was.

 It was something the Jedi of old would have approved of.

Vader himself thought it was foolish. Why waste time and money developing something to blend into the world around you, when a simpler, more effective solution would have been to burn brightly all through the darkness? More ships would be able to land, more buildings could be erected, if the Alderannians had cared a bit more about being productive and a bit less about base sentimentality.

He could feel his ever-present rage rising up in him even as gentle wind chimes tinkled in the royal gardens, seeking to soothe him. He crushed one viciously with the Force. This place, these pacifistic fools, reminded him of why the Empire was necessary, why it was his destiny and his Master’s to rule over the lesser beings of the galaxy. But it also infuriated him.

There was nothing more dangerous than a pacifist.

Bail Organa and his queen were just further proof of Vader’s wisdom. The Alderaanian senator had tried to hide his involvement in rebel activity and the queen had cleverly managed to distract Vader’s attention by inquiries into pirate activity in the Outer Rim, but Vader knew they were involved with these rebel cells.

And more importantly, he knew they possessed the whereabouts of Kenobi.

And thus, his omnipresent rage was fanned even further. If his Master had not expressly forbidden him from killing the Organas, Vader would have bent them to his will in the Force, until they revealed Kenobi’s location. As it was, in his present anger, he was afraid that even an attempt at Force persuasion would result in him losing control and breaking their minds.

He doubted that Force persuasion would work anyway, even had he been in control of himself. Neither the queen nor Senator Organa seemed weak-willed enough for it to work, and besides, the subtle art of Force persuasion had always been his Master’s….no, _Kenobi’s_ particular gift.

“I know you are out there, Obi-Wan,” Vader said to the night air, almost feeling his old Master’s mocking presence in the Force once more. “I will find you,” Vader promised. Threatened. “No matter where you hide.” The only sound was the wind whistling done from the mountains and the steady breathing of Vader’s respirator.

“Who’s Obi-Wan?” asked a little voice, and only Vader’s supreme control over himself prevented him from startling in alarm. He had sensed nothing.

He turned.

He was standing in a section of Alderaan’s royal gardens which was surrounded by low-lying stone walls, along which a variety of evergreen plants cast dark shadows in the starlight. Underfoot, the ground was covered in white stones that crunched under the heavy tread of his armored body.

And there, along the wall not even a dozen paces away, was a small girl seated on a bench. She had a pale, elfin face, a cloud of dark hair, and a snow-white nightgown. She was also surveying the Dark Lord with a faintly imperious air, as though not sure whether she should be reprimanding him for trespassing. It was this last which stilled Vader’s immediate response to snap her neck.

She had heard too much of what he should have forgotten long ago, and Vader had never been fond of children. But the girl reminded him so much of her mother, the queen, that for a moment Vader almost felt a wisp of something he thought was amusement.

And of course she must be the Organa’s daughter, the adopted one, the one all of Alderaan couldn’t seem to stop talking about. Vader had heard the rumors; that no pictures of her were allowed to be taken until she was out of childhood. His Master had maliciously supposed that she was deformed in some way, but Vader could see nothing wrong with the girl.

She was picturesque, in her warm, white nightgown, with snowflakes settling in her dark hair. The color was lighter than the queen’s or the Senator’s, her features different than either of theirs, and Vader wondered if she knew that they weren’t her real parents. He could tell that she would grow up to be a beauty one day.

Now she tilted her head and surveyed him steadily with a pair of piercing, dark eyes. “Who’s Obi-Wan?” she repeated, and then hopped off the bench into the snow. She scrunched up her small nose as wet snow went over the top of her shoes, but she didn’t let that deter her, to Vader’s faint alarm.

The little princess walked towards him.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Vader demanded, feeling a rather absurd urge to take a step back as she stomped over to him. She came really close, gazed up at his black faceplate and armor with no sign of fear in her face or Force presence, and then shrugged.

“No one’s paying any attention to me tonight,” she explained, sounding as sulky as only a young child could. She fixed him with a hard stare. “They’re all too busy with you.” The tone was accusatory and not complimentary. 

Vader felt his annoyance and anger spike. _How dare this child talk to him in such a way. He was a Sith Lord, a being of power beyond this puny girl’s understanding._ “I would watch your tone if I were you, Your Highness,” he said menacingly.

The little princess didn’t even blink or look away from him. Her glare did not falter either, but after a moment she raised one, extremely unimpressed, eyebrow. It was an expression so uncannily like someone from Vader’s past that the Sith Lord felt for a moment as though he had been punched square in the gut. The respirator did not allow him to gasp or stumble over his breath, but it felt like the bottom dropped out from his stomach and his heart pounded. There were too many coincidences.

“Obi-Wan,” he rasped.

“Yes?” demanded the princess. “Who is he?”

_My master_ , Vader almost said, but that wasn’t right. The Emperor was his master, a being far wiser and more powerful than Obi-Wan Kenobi would ever be. The Emperor knew more of the Force’s subtleties than Vader’s old master ever did either, for all the man’s arrogance and his short-sightedness at refusing to listen to Anakin’s premonitions and dreams.

“Kenobi,” he said at last and, surprisingly, the princess’ face cleared.

"General Kenobi?” she asked, to Vader’s surprised. Organa was a bigger fool than he had thought. Then, “He’s a great man. A hero. I've watched all the holovids.”

Vader wanted to grind his teeth, despite his surprise that Organa managed to save holovids of Kenobi from the Clone Wars. “He is not. He is a traitor and a coward.”

The princess stared back at him calmly. “Liar,” she accused. 

And Vader saw red. He raised his hand, to strike her or to choke her with the Force he did not know, but the little princess skipped back out of his reach and took off running through the snow. Perhaps she had sensed the menace in him, or perhaps she was just tired of the conversation. Vader could have halted her with the Force, made her come back to him, but he let her go. Despite her words.

The Emperor would not be pleased if he killed Bail Organa’s daughter in a fit of rage. 

Princess Leia was almost out of sight when she stopped at a bend in the garden and looked back at him. Snow fell around her, soft and beautiful, and she looked almost like a fairy child, like the ones his mother used to tell him about. “My father said General Kenobi was a great man,” she called. “That he was the best of the Jedi. One day he will come back and destroy you, and everything evil with you!”

And then she was gone, a shadow in the night. But unlike most of the ghosts Vader existed amongst, her words lingered behind her, taunting him.

_Not if I find Kenobi first,_ he thought towards the little princess spitefully. _Not if I kill him first._

 

0o0o0

 

Obi-Wan wasn’t sleeping. He _had_ been sleeping, or attempting to sleep, at any rate. Tatooine’s moons hung brilliant and bright in the velvet sky and he had stayed on the couch in his small sitting area, resting his head on one arm as he stared up at the stars, trying to name them. 

He found himself wondering if Anakin had known their names growing up, if Shmi had told him stories about the stars like those he had hear in Mos Eisley and Anchorhead. He fell asleep to that thought and dreamed of fire and death again, Padmé fading away before his eyes, Satine dying in his arms, Qui-Gon’s body cradled close to him.

_“You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you.”_

And he woke up, heart pounding, body covered in sweat, to find the emergency comm beeping. He was so disoriented, still seeing Anakin’s beloved form burning before his eyes, that he answered the device without thinking. “Kenobi.”

There was a slight pause, surprise on the other side, and the Jedi Master dragged himself further into wakefulness. “Obi-Wan.” Bail’s voice was hoarse, an awful tension in it that Obi-Wan had never heard before, not even during the Jedi Purge. “We have a problem.”

Obi-Wan was upright and calm, his mind falling back into the orderly patterns he had developed during the Clone Wars without conscious thought. “What is it?” And his voice was calm, in control, authoritative. It was a voice designed to calm others, to let them know that it would be alright.

That calm was shattered in an instant.

“It’s Leia,” Bail said, and his voice cracked. “She’s been taken.”

“Taken by whom?” Obi-Wan demanded, already up and moving towards where he’d placed his emergency escape pack. He slid aside an old ventilation shaft located at the bottom of the wall in the sitting room, behind the couch. Spare robes, Imperial credits, a fortnight’s worth of rations. He pulled it out, moved over to the chest and withdrew his lightsaber. After a moment’s hesitation he withdrew Anakin’s lightsaber as well.

“Cad Bane.”

That was a surprise. Obi-Wan’s eyebrow rose. It was a name from the past, and one he had not expected to hear again. “Really?” He remembered his adventure with Quinlan Vos on Nal Hutta when the two of them had attempted to track Bane down and arrest him. The bounty hunter had been cunning and capable enough to escape from two highly-trained Jedi Masters. “How did he get past your security?”

Obi-Wan could just imagine Bail’s grimace. “He had help,” the Alderaanian senator admitted. “From Aurra Sing. You remember when she attempted to assassinate Padmé during the Refugee Delegation?”

Obi-Wan had been busy hunting Grievous along the borders of the Hapes Consortiuum, but he remembered Anakin’s retelling of the event, and his pride in Ahsoka’s protection of the Naboo senator. “I do. You have not changed your security since then?” His voice was disapproving, and he knew it, but Bail was protecting one of the most important people in Obi-Wan’s life. Lax security was something neither of them could afford.

“We did, but obviously not enough,” Bail admitted. “And we were…distracted.” He sounded slightly calmer now that he was explaining what had happened.

For a moment the Force rose up like a sudden swell in the middle of the ocean and Obi-Wan froze. “Distracted by what,” he asked cautiously. He clipped his lightsaber to his belt, placed Anakin’s in his knapsack and made to close the wooden chest, but something held him back. The Force moved and swelled again, like a faint symphony he could only partially hear.

The pause from Bail was longer this time, and Obi-Wan felt his impatience rising. At last Bail said, “Vader was here.”

“What?” Obi-Wan couldn’t have been more shocked if Vader had appeared outside his house on Tatooine that very moment.

“He was here,” Bail repeated again. “I was foolish, I was careless. He came across a shipment of that tea I always sent you and he knew right away that it was for you. He knew it came from me, that it was being sent to Tatooine, and he knew that you are the intended recipient. How he knew, I have no idea. It’s not that uncommon!” His voice rose in frustration. Obi-Wan tried to process what he was hearing.

“He’s coming for you, Obi-Wan. I’m sure of it,” Bail warned. “And while he was here, we were distracted enough that a bunch of thieving, murderous criminals stole my daughter.”

Obi-Wan reached into the chest again. “Where’s Ahsoka?” he asked, although he already knew the answer. He placed her old lightsabers in his knapsack as well, and then he finally closed the wooden chest.

“She’s out of contact until she returns from her mission on Orto Plutonia.”

Obi-Wan looked around him once more at the simple dwelling that had been his home for the past five years. He knew Anakin Skywalker, knew that even as Darth Vader, the man was relentless. He would track Obi-Wan here within a week at most.

Obi-Wan needed that week to get clear, to start tracking where Bane had taken Leia – and why – and to lead Vader away from Tatooine, and Luke, as soon as possible.

“You’re the only one that I trust, Master Kenobi. Please help me find her. You’re my only hope.”

Obi-Wan closed the door behind him and headed towards his simple stable where Rooh, his faithful if ornery eopie, eyed him balefully. “I’m on my way,” he said, and switched off the comm.

When Obi-Wan arrived at the Lars’ homestead, Owen refused to admit him but Beru came out and listened to what had happened. She took the lightsaber he handed her – Qui-Gon’s old blade, saved for Luke when he got older – without question, and held it in the way those utterly unfamiliar with it always did. She seemed more surprised and amused at his tale though, than alarmed. “Yes, we’ll take Luke and head for my sister’s place for a few weeks. Until you come back and tell us it’s safe,” she assured him, but Obi-Wan could see the twinkle in her blue eyes.

“What?” he asked her, bemused.

“Tea?” she said. “Anakin is tracking you because of your favorite tea?”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard. “When you put it like that, it does sound ridiculous,” he admitted. “But it is entirely possible, I assure you.” He grimaced. “He has unfinished business with me. He would, I fear, track me to the ends of the galaxy because of it.” There was still too much bitterness in those words.

Beru reached out and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Perhaps it is simply that he still cares for you,” she suggested.

Obi-Wan tried to hide his flinch and his natural reaction to edge away from her touch. He had tried to explain to both Owen and Beru what had happened to Anakin, what he had become, but he knew they did not truly understand it. How someone like Anakin could have turned into the monster Obi-Wan warned them about seemed to be a mystery that they tried to trust him on but could never fully believe. And there was no sense in trying to explain it once more. “I doubt that,” Obi-Wan said instead, wryly. “His only concern will be whether to kill me quickly or savor my death slowly.”

Beru shook her head, looking stubborn. If there was one thing Tatooine moisture farmers were, it was stubborn to the bone. “My uncle used to say that hate was just another form of love. ‘It’s mirror image’ he used to say. Or it’s double negative.” She met his eyes. “If he searched for you this desperately, then a part of him still cares, a part of him still needs you, wants you.” She nodded at him. “And you can work with that. I know you can.”

Obi-Wan stared at her for a moment, shocked. She looked so certain of his abilities, so certain of Anakin’s feelings in this matter, and she spoke with wisdom. Obi-Wan looked away from Beru for a moment, staring out towards the simple, sand-blasted headstones that made up the Lars’ small family plot. Shmi Skywalker Lars was buried there, undoubtedly watching over her grandson and hoping that Obi-Wan wouldn’t fail him as he had failed his father.

Obi-Wan turned back to Beru and nodded his thanks to her. “Perhaps you are right,” he told her quietly, unsure whether he wanted her to be or not. Padmé had been convinced that something of Anakin still lived in Darth Vader as well, but Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how it could. And wouldn’t she have lived if she truly believed that. Perhaps she had said it simply to comfort him. And he wasn’t sure that he could ever reconcile the good man he had known with the monster that man had become. 

Beru tapped him on the arm, drawing him back from his ruminations. “What kind of tea?” she asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“What kind of tea was so special that Anakin recognized it on sight? Smell?” She was teasing him again.

“Corellian spice,” he admitted, remembering how Anakin had snorted when he’d learned the name of Obi-Wan’s favorite tea. He’d been thirteen and just entering the arrogance of adolescence. 

“Only you, Master,” he’d said.

“And what is it about my tea that amuses you so, Anakin?” he’d asked.

Anakin’s bright blue eyes had been alive with mischief and something else Obi-Wan couldn’t place. He’d been feeling like Anakin’s emotions were becoming more and more unpredictable the older the boy got.

“It’s supposed to remind people of pirates and the illegal kind of spice,” Anakin had said, as though it was obvious. “It’s just like you, Master,” Anakin said slyly. “All prime and proper on the outside, while on the inside…” he trailed off.

Obi-Wan felt his eyebrow rise of its own accord. “’On the inside’ what?” he said, sounding scanladised. He winced at his own tone. When he’d been saddled with a too-old Padawan he’d attempted everything in his power to look and sound and act older than his years. He’d never meant to sound like someone’s ancient grandmother, however.

Anakin burst into peals of laughter. Somewhere amongst his hilarity, Obi-Wan swore he caught the words “sexual frustration” which he elected to ignore for the sake of his own mental health.

He shook the memories away. They were unhelpful in this moment, and the past was in the past. It would never return. He focused instead on Beru’s face. Her eyes were kind, her face weathered by hard, honest work under unforgiving suns. She was quiet and compassionate, loving and generous. She knew only hardship and deprivation and loss, and yet her first instinct was to reach out and comfort others. There was much he could learn from her.

Her eyes were still alight with mischief.

Obi-Wan sighed in resignation. “Corellian spice,” he repeated. “It was called Corellian spice.”

Beru laughed quietly. “Sounds dangerous,” she said. “No wonder Anakin remembered it. Shmi used to say that if there was any danger to be found, Anakin would be right, smack in the middle of it. 

Obi-Wan’s lips quirked in a wry smile. “True,” he admitted. Then he lowered his voice in a stage whisper. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he said, leaning in close to her. Beru played along.

“What?”

“I was once a bit dangerous as well.” It felt good to tease someone again. Perhaps he had spent too long in the desert, with only his memories for company.

Beru smiled at him, as she was supposed to, but her eyes were almost sad and Obi-Wan realized that she had read more in his words than he had meant to put there. “And now?” she probed him. 

Obi-Wan stepped back and adjusted his cloak, pulling the hood down low over his face. “And now,” he admitted, “I am only a man grown old before his time. Crazy old Ben, who lives at the edge of the Dune Sea and is friends with Bantha and Jawas.”

Beru stared at him for a quick, surprised moment before she shook her head emphatically. “No,” she said. “That’s not all. I don’t believe that’s all.” But her voice wavered, as though she hoped more than she was sure. She clutched Qui-Gon’s old lightsaber to her chest and then raised her face stubbornly back up to his. The courage her and Owen showed in the face of the danger Obi-Wan had brought into their lives continually humbled the Jedi Master. “I will keep this safe for you,” she promised. Then she turned and walked back towards the house. At the very edge of the steps descending into the main dwelling area she spoke to him without looking back. “May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Luke will be here when you return.” And then she was gone.

Obi-Wan turned away, towards the faintly rising suns in the east. He had much ground to cover and little time to do it. But despite his weariness and his fear, he almost felt like smiling. It felt a bit like old times; a quest before him, a princess to rescue, and the dark side to defeat.

 

0o0o0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Notes: This chapter was going to be much longer, but then it got too long and unwieldy, so I cut it in half. Part Two should be up later tonight or tomorrow! Did anyone like Bail and Leia’s relationship? What about Vader’s meeting with Princess Leia? If Padmé was an angel, serene and pure, Leia is wild and powerful and good, yet dangerous, like an elf or a fairy. 
> 
> The alternate summary for this chapter should be - Vader finds himself arguing with a five-year-old lol.


	4. ...and a Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader searches for Obi-Wan in the deserts of his past. 
> 
> "Everything casts two shadows.
> 
> The suns had determined this at the dawn of creation. Brothers, they were, until the younger sun showed his true face to the tribe. It was a sin. The elder sun attempted to kill his brother, as was only proper.
> 
> But he failed.
> 
> Burning, bleeding, the younger sun pursued his sibling across the sky. The wily old star fled for the hills and safety, but it was his fate never to rest again. For the younger brother had only exposed his face. The elder had exposed his failure."  
> ~ Kenobi, by John Jackson Miller

The Far Dark Shore

Chapter Two, Part Two

…and a Wizard

 

0o0o0 

 

Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, landed his personal shuttle in a hangar bay on the outskirts of Mos Eisley’s bustling spaceport. Although he had never been to Mos Eisley before, this was where the rebel ship’s logs had indicated would be its final destination. Besides, Vader had no desire to set foot in Mos Espa again. The place held too many memories which belonged to Anakin Skywalker.

_Ghosts,_ Vader thought. _They are only ghosts, now._

As were the people he moved amongst. They lived their petty lives with no understanding of the greater purpose he and his Master were attempting to bring about in the galaxy. They were immaterial in his quest. All that mattered was that he find Kenobi and end the threat the man presented to the Empire once and for all.

His private communicator pinged but he ignored it for the moment, taking it off his wrist guard and placing it inside the center console of the shuttle’s cockpit. There was only one person who would be calling him on that channel. His Master.

Vader had never ignored his master’s call before, and he wasn’t ignoring it now. He would find out what the Emperor wanted from him. Just as soon as he killed Kenobi.

 

0o0o0

  

Captain Maximilian Veers watched Lord Vader exit the shuttle and stride off through the late afternoon crowd of the Mos Eisley spaceport, until he was swallowed by the sweaty, seething masses. The presence of Commander Cody by his side, loyal and committed, was all Vader would allow on this mission. The yellow and white armored clone vanished in the crowd even before Vader did 

Mos Eisley was the dingiest, dirtiest, most backwater place Veers had ever had the pleasure of visiting in the course of his glorious service to the Empire. The place seemed to be a hideout for every criminal in the galaxy, a hot, dusty, useless place, where the people seemed scarcely to even know of the Empire, let along feel the long arm of the law. Everything here was drab and brown and plain, every third building was a bar of some sort which served alcohol, necessary in such a dismal place, and the people who appeared to be law-abiding citizens kept their heads down as they scurried about their business. The spaceport was small and cramped and dirty with rundown equipment. A bribe was all that was required with the customs official and everyone turned a blind eye towards what condition your ship was in and what was offloaded from it.

Veers was unwillingly impressed. He was also certain that Lord Vader would have something to say about it, just as soon as he finished his current mission. His single-minded focus was stressful for the rest of the crew, even though they were used to their Lord’s rather unpredictable moods.

Truth be told, Veers was relieved at Lord Vader’s departure. The man, if he was indeed a man under that suit, had been even more merciless, more uncompromising, unforgiving of even the slightest mistake, real or perceived, than in all the years Veers had known him. He hoped that whatever Vader sought in the desert, it brought him back in a better mood.

Yet even Vader’s worst moods did little to dampen the loyalty the men under his command felt for him.

The regular officers may have hated him, but the Stormtrooper Corps almost worshipped him. Vader led from the front. He never asked his men to do something he wouldn’t do himself, and he valued and rewarded loyalty and competence. Meritocracy was how you advanced in the Corps under Lord Vader, not through bribery or favors or the power of your last name and connections 

Vader cared nothing for that. Results were all that mattered.

It was what made working for him worthwhile, despite the risks of the Dark Lord’s mercurial temper and even more mercurial powers. Veers was not old enough to have fought alongside any of the Jedi, but he had heard the whispers in the Stormtrooper barracks late at night, tales past down from the old Clone soldiers who had been the Empire’s first military force.

The Jedi sounded impressive, but Veers would place money on Vader being more powerful and impressive than any Jedi who had ever lived. The man lived and breathed power.

It was why the Captain was mostly unconcerned that Lord Vader planned to handle this particular mission alone, save for an aging Clone to protect him. He had seen what Vader could do, and there was nothing on this rotten dust heap of a planet that stood a chance against him.

 

0o0o0

  

Clone Commander Cody didn’t find it unusual that General Skywalker decided to start their search for General Kenobi at Jabba the Hutt’s palace. Long ago, General Kenobi told him that Skywalker had grown up on Tatooine. This was before the Jedi had found him and taken him to Coruscant to train in their Temple. Cody himself had also been Tatooine many years ago, during the Clone Wars, when he had picked up General Kenobi after their mission to Teth. 

That had been just after the little one, Commander Tano, had joined them. He wondered where she was now, if she was dead as the Imperial databanks claimed. He had once asked Colonel Yularen to show him those files. Rex had killed her, the official report claimed, and she had killed him in return. Her lightsabers were never recovered, and neither was her body, but a clone had been buried in the grave.

Cody doubted it was Rex though. Rex had had his chip removed and the clone in the grave had not. But he had said nothing. If Rex had gotten out, if Rex had been free to make his own choice to save Commander Tano instead of killing her, then Cody wished him only the best.

_Traitors,_ the voice whispered. He whispered. _The Jedi are traitors._

_Die, Jedi, die._

A sharp pain stabbed him right between the eyes and he grimaced, resisting the urge to put a hand to his temples. If Rex hadn’t killed Tano, then he was a traitor as well. General Skywalker should be made aware that Rex had had his chip removed, that he could still be alive, that Tano could still be alive…

…but Skywalker was a Jedi as well.

Cody should kill him. It was his duty to the Republic…no, that wasn’t right. His duty to the _Empire_ to kill Skywalker.

…but General Kenobi wouldn’t approve.

The pain grew.

“Commander?” boomed the deep, deep voice of Darth Vader. “Is anything amiss?”

Cody shook his head quickly, focused on where he was, now. Not General Skywalker, Darth Vader.

The pain receded a bit. They were standing outside the doors to Jabba’s palace. Rusty metal hinges squeaked and squealed as the heavy doors were opened for them. He was bleeding from the nose again.

_Jedi,_ the voice whispered. Cody focused on Vader, not concentrating on anything else. He knew in his gut that he had to keep man alive. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t logically think of a reason why. His gut knew the reason and it screamed at him to not let the man die. Cody knew, somewhere deep inside, that Vader was a bad man, an evil man. A man the General would not want him to be loyal to.

But Cody had known the General, not just what he would have wanted Cody to do or not do, but what the General hoped for, and wished despite any hope at all. He had almost killed the General. He would kill him if he ever found him again. If Vader didn’t kill him first. But some part of him knew that he was doing this for the General.

Maybe for redemption. Maybe because it was the last tiny part of him still holding on to the past.

He swallowed, tasted blood in his mouth, knew logically that clones had not been made to live as long as he had. He stood up straighter. If he was going to die, he would die on his feet. Fighting. Like a good soldier should. “No, sir. Five by five.”

For a moment Lord Vader paused, hearing an echo from the past perhaps. “Very well,” he said. “Then let us proceed.” And they were ushered into Jabba the Hutt’s corpulent presence.

Jabba’s palace was an…interesting place. Dark, fetid, the scent of spice lingering on the air, it contained dozens of beings from various species, most of them not human, in the midst of what seemed to be a party in full swing. Three beautiful Twi’lek women, dressed in chains and not much else, danced to raucous music before Jabba’s throne. Bounty hunters and hired muscle lined the walls, criminals from all over the Outer Rim watched Vader and Cody from the shadows. The Clone Commander kept one hand on the butt of his blaster as Vader swept through the crowd, silence spreading in his wake, and stopped directly before the Hutt.

Cody wasn’t an expert at reading Hutts, but he would bet money on it that Jabba was both surprised and alarmed at Vader’s presence. The music abruptly cut off and even the dancers stopped, eyeing Jabba fearfully all the while.

Vader’s respirator was loud in the sudden silence.

“Lord Vader,” rumbled Jabba, speaking in Huttese. Both Vader and Cody understood the language and there was no need for a translator droid. “Why have I been honored by your presence?”

When the Hutt gangster learned why they had come, he laughed and laughed. “Ho ho ho ho,” he rumbled, his tiny hands clutching a ginormous stomach, the stench of him overpowering all other senses even through Cody’s re-breather. “Ho ho ho ho.”

Vader’s lightsaber appeared like a sudden miracle in his hand, pointed straight towards the Hutt and held close enough that the fat on the Hutt’s stomach shriveled and burned.

Jabba howled in pain and the scent of burnt flesh filled the room.

“Tell me what I want to know,” Vader said, his voice as deep and dark as a bottomless pit. “Where is Kenobi?”

Jabba gave in after only a moment. A being like that, Cody knew, would have no loyalty to anyone, least of all an Imperial traitor in hiding. But in between his howls, the Hutt was still laughing.

The bounty hunters in the room as well as Jabba’s personal guard all had their weapons drawn and pointed towards Vader. None of them, however, made a move to step closer or to actually fire. Perhaps this criminal scum had once come in contact with a Jedi and knew how fast they could move. Or perhaps they had heard the whispers of Lord Vader, which Cody knew permeated through the fringes of the Outer Rim, if not in its mostly law-abiding Imperial citizens.

Cody had both blasters out now – a habit he had picked up from Rex – his back to Vader and his weapons drawn on the rest of this…den of iniquity. He felt a brief trickle of confusion at that turn of phrase, which wasn’t one he would normally use. It must have been something he’d learned from…an old friend. “I suggest you answer Lord Vader, Hutt,” he ordered, his gaze making sure these criminals stayed right where they were. No funny business.

Jabba wheeze and whimpered and chuckled all at once. “If only you had come several days ago, Vader,” he got out at last.

Vader deactivated his lightsaber and took a step back. “What do you mean?” he demanded, in his menacing voice. Cody didn’t bother lowering his weapons. They might still have to fight their way out yet, knowing the General.

“You’re lucky I like you, Vader,” Jabba warned. “And you are lucky that Kenobi has been a thorn in my side long enough that I tire of his presence.” _More than yours,_ remained unsaid.

Vader processed this for barely a tenth of a second. “How long has he been here?” His voice was too fast, losing its menacing quality in his haste.

Jabba started chuckling again. “Why, Lord Vader, he has never left.”  And then the Hutt proceeded to tell the Dark Lord of the Sith everything.

Afterwards, Cody stood on a sand dune and watched Vader – General Skywalker – Lord _Vader_ walk into the distance. Jabba’s palace was faint and shimmering from the heat in the other direction. Built on an unlikely flat expanse of rocky ground, the squat, sand-colored and turreted fortification was the only object besides the endless hills of sand for many miles.

Well, now except for Lord Vader of course.

The General was a black speck amid a sea of brown and yellow and blue, a black hole of darkness and cold amid the light and heat. He was an anathema in this place. Vader had informed Cody in no uncertain terms that the Clone Commander was not needed any longer.

“I must face Kenobi alone,” he rumbled, dark and foreboding and utterly certain. Cody let him go without argument, knowing better by now, and watched as the General’s cape billowed out behind him dramatically despite the lack of wind on that sweltering day. Sweat dripped down Cody’s spine, beneath the synth-suit, and fell into his eyes, but he knew Vader’s armor was air tight and possessed its own heating and cooling systems. He wondered what it was like, to move through life and yet be utterly untouched by any of it.

Lonely, he expected.

“Say hi to the General for me,” Cody called after Vader’s retreating back. Not even he was certain whether the comment was a threat for Kenobi or a genuine greeting.

He grimaced even as Vader froze. _Damn Jedi, and their damn traitor powers,_ he thought, wondering distantly if today was the day he finally overstepped and Vader killed him.

For a long moment Vader said nothing, although the menace was clear in his presence. Cody wondered how Kenobi would fare against Vader, and he remembered Jabba’s words.

_The locals call him a wizard._

_He has cheated me of the rightful profits of my…acquisitions._ Meaning slaves, Cody had thought in disgust as Jabba laughed at his own cleverness.

_He is allied with the Tuskens, those backwater savages who steal babies out in the desert._

_A female Jedi fights beside him. She would make a fine pet, if she weren’t Jedi._

“Be careful Commander,” Vader warned, “Be very careful indeed.”

Cody felt cold long after Vader was out of sight.

 

0o0o0

 

Vader walked across Tatooine’s endless desert and hated every particle of sand, every ray of sun and every scuttling lizard beneath his boots. 

The suns bore mercilessly down upon him, scorching and killing everything in its path, and causing strange reflections on the red-tinted lenses before his eyes. The sands got into the joints of his armor and weighed his suit down as his heavy, durasteel legs sank beneath the dunes. And yet, despite all the inconvenience, all the hatred, Vader could _feel_ nothing.

None of this seemed real. Only the knowledge that Kenobi waited for him at the end of this felt real, more real than anything else had in years.

The read-outs on his lenses told him the temperature was 121 degrees, the humidity was less than 5% and the suit would only be able to withstand the conditions of Tatooine for another 36 hours before needing to be re-charged and cleaned, and Vader himself needing to spend several hours in a bacta tank.

Vader reached out with the Force, hoping to glean a hint of Kenobi’s presence. The man had always been bright, almost-blinding in the Force. It should not be hard to find him. But he felt nothing. Nothing except himself. The Force was blind where it touched the places his limbs used to be, the reason he was even out in this desert, the reason he had lost everything, and the reason he had only 36 hours to find…Kenobi.

“Show yourself to me old man,” he commanded, out loud to the sands and the soft, hot winds of Tatooine. “Meet your doom.”

But there was only silence and emptiness.

Vader kept walking forwards, in the direction the vile Hutt had told him Kenobi and…the female Jedi…and the Tuskens had come from. Vader had not questioned Jabba as to the woman’s appearance. There were any number of female Jedi who could have survived the Purge, any who could be aiding Kenobi. It was not logical that his first thought went to…her.

_You wouldn’t have made it as Obi-Wan’s Padawan, but you might make it as mine._  

And no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he tried to bury them beneath his rage, the memories of this place, of his past, of Anakin Skywalker – sometimes she had called him Skyguy – kept fighting their way up to the light of day.

Well, if Ahsoka Tano was with Kenobi, he would kill her too. She had made her choice to side with the Jedi Master…

…but perhaps Kenobi had tricked her, like he had tricked Padmé into betraying him. Perhaps, if he gave her the choice, if he told her the truth, if he told her what Obi-Wan had taken from him, Ahsoka would stand beside him once more. 

Perhaps.

The sands were endless and desolate, but Vader knew he was going in the right direction. He could feel a band of Tuskens off in the distance, tracking him. If they were in league with Kenobi, they would not doubt be spying on him for his old master. As long as they followed him, Vader knew he would find Kenobi eventually.

_Soon, my old master,_ he thought. _Soon._

 

0o0o0

  

It was one of the children, Dul, who brought A’Yark word that a monster walked the desert under the light of the suns. Curious, slightly contemptuous and mostly to stop the cowards in her tribe from their petty fears, ever mounting as the settlers moved farther and farther into traditional Tusken lands, A’Yark climbed the cliffs in the direction the child pointed.

The wizard had mysteriously vanished during the night. An outrider from the Tuskens had reported him riding towards one of the settler’s homesteads before continuing on the place they called Anchorhead. A’Yark had thought little of the report. The wizard was free to come and go as he chose, he had made sure of that long ago, and he always returned.

She thought little of tales reporting a dark monster as well, until she saw the creature with her own eyes. Or rather, eye. A’Yark had lost her left eye long ago, in some battle she couldn’t even remember anymore, and had replaced the empty socket with a glowing red stone she had claimed as the rightful spoils of conquest.

Her right eye saw well enough though, and what she saw was a tall, distant figure with two legs – probably humanoid – striding slowing and purposefully across the Dune Sea. That, in itself, was unusual, but the man – creature – was encased in some type of black armor. His suit gleamed like a star in the brightness of Tatooine’s twin suns. A fearsome mast and face plate covered his head, hiding his face from the light of day, from any who would know him. A black cape billowed out behind him in a way that was not natural.

A’Yark watched the flow of the cape for a moment, the way it moved irregardless of the breeze, and then she spotted a hint of silver at the creature’s waist. She pulled out a pair of macrobinoculars. Tuskens generally despised the technology the settlers used, but A’Yark found macrobinoculars useful and so she carried the, despite the disapproval of the elders. Now, she trained them on the creature, hoping to catch a glimpse of his belt and the silver object at his waist.

She had a suspicion that this creature was an Airshaper, the same as the wizard was. But there was something about him, the way he walked through the desert, the scent of him in the air, that she did not like. A wave of cold seemed to flow out from him in a way that even A’Yark, not sensitive to the changes in the air the way some of the Tuskens were, could feel.

At last she focused the macrobinoculars enough to see the creature’s belt. A sword of light, such as Sharad Hett had once carried and like Ben carried now. 

Even as she watched, the black armored creature paused at the edge of a vast canyon. There were rumors amongst the Tusken that one of the Great Kray Dragon’s still lived down there, its lair a series of deep caverns which eventually ran down to a vast, underground lake. Several settlers in A’Yark’s lifetime had gone into those caves hunting for the legendary pearls a krayt dragon produced. 

None had ever returned.

Now the dark creature paused at the edge of the canyon. It turned and seemed to be looking at A’Yark across all the vaste leagues that separated them, which was impossible. After a moment the creature slowly turned its head again, crouched and then leapt out into space, straight over the canyon.

A’Yark caught her breath, and then she was hooking the macrobinoculars to her waist, grabbing her gaddirffi and sprinting down the side of the cliff, out into the Dune Sea and towards the lair of the Great Krayt Dragon. If that dark creature was foolish enough, arrogant enough, to walk into the trap, A’Yark would be there to witness it. Perhaps the story would be enough to inspire her increasingly timid people to take back what was rightfully theirs.

  

0o0o0

 

The kryat dragon waited for him in the shadows of the canyon. Vader had sensed its presence long before he came upon it, and the creature itself was drawn to Vader’s power, as his master said many would be.

Vader was not surprised. As he walked down into the canyon, the suns’ glare lessoning and the temperature dropping to a more tolerable level, he waited for the giant creature to attack. Once, long ago, Anakin Skywalker had seen the skeleton of one of the greater krayt dragons. He had been trying to save a herd of banthas at the time, and he had wandered too far into the desert from the safety of Mos Espa. A sudden sandstorm had come upon him there, and he had hidden in a cave. It was only when the sands cleared, and the fury of the sky lessoned that Anakin realized he’d been sharing his shelter with the remains of the largest creature he’d ever seen. His frantic mother later explained that it had been a true krayt dragon, not like the smaller ones that sometimes came even into the city, but their cousins, wild and free and dangerous.

“Stay away from them, Ani,” she had said, staring seriously into his eyes, but then a rueful smile had touched her lips and lightened her sad eyes. She looked almost beautiful when she smiled, the lines on her face from a life of hard, thankless work smoothing away. She looked almost like Padmé. “If you can,” she teased. “I know your proclivity for trouble.”

Anakin had put on his best innocent smile for her and promised to stay away.

Vader had made no such promise. The canyon was the quickest way towards where he thought Kenobi might be hiding, a pass through the mountains which eventually led to Anchorhead. And so he went in, for he feared nothing anymore, least of all a pathetic creature that stood in his way.

The krayt dragon waited until Vader was deep within the canyon before it moved out into the open. There was a rumble, the very earth shaking under Vader’s feet, small rocks and showers of sand tumbling down the side of the cliff faces which surrounded Vader on all sides and which towered as high above him as the skyscrapers on Coruscant. 

The sky was hazy blue, heat curling up from the tops of the cliffs and the sun turning the sands above to gold. Below was only shadow and silence. Not a creature stirred save Vader and the krayt dragon.

Vader, surprisingly, felt his blood stir. He pulled his lightsaber from his belt and ignited the blood-red blade. He submerged himself in the Force, remembering when he had taken the kyber crystal from the unworthy Jedi who had possessed it and bent the green jewel to his will, bleeding the crystal. He remembered the pathetic attempts the kyber crystal had used to try and stop him, the visions of Kenobi and Vader kneeling before him, begging him like a weak fool…

…and Obi-Wan lowering his lightsaber and calling him “Anakin” again – 

No. Those were lies. In life only the strong endured. And Vader…Vader was strong.

The krayt dragon burst through the opening of the cave with a terrifying, piercing roar, the wind of its breath and its whipping, spiked tail powerful as a storm’s gale. The walls of the cave shattered like glass around its massive bulk, showering Vader with stones he used the Force to push aside. The creature was huge and…magnificent. It would almost be a shame to kill it, Vader thought dispassionately, readying himself for a fight.

The krayt dragon was larger than any creature Vader had ever faced, barring the zillo beast he had survived a run in with on Malastare and again on Coruscant. It’s grey-green scaled body was thick and powerful, multiple legs making it, Vader assessed, extremely fast. Spikes protruded at intervals along its back, with huge horns projecting from the top and sides and a double row of sharp, shiny teeth such as only carnivores possessed. It had flat, clawed feet, making it apparent it could easily climb the walls of the canyon, and a huge spiked tail it would use to stun unsuspecting prey. 

But Vader was no weak, unsuspecting prey and he had no intention of running.

One with the Force, the fight began.

 

0o0o0 

 

A’Yark stood on the edge of the cliff and watched in unwilling awe as the dark creature single handedly took on one of the greater krayt dragons. 

She had had no idea one of the beasts still lived at the edge of the Dune Sea, let alone one as big as that which gnashed and drooled and attempted to tear apart the black monster.

The man, if man he was and not some sort of demon from an unknown underworld, moved preternaturally fast. He jumped and spun and slashed with the humming red blade of his light sword. He was not as graceful as Ben or the female, A’hsoka, but his blows were more powerful, relentless and brutal, and he could take a backhand from the krayt, or a blow from its powerful tail, without any noticeable affect at all. He would absorb the blow, or be knocked back ten or even twenty meters, and then continue to fight, as inexorable as ever. Like one of those machines the outlanders used to steal water from the air.

The krayt dragon put up a valiant fight, its claws and teeth catching its opponent more than once, but A’Yark knew that the armored creature the dragon fought was a master of death and that it was only a matter of time before the victory was his.

The krayt dragon too, seemed to realize it had lost the fight, for it tried to flee, scrambling up the very side of the canyon walls, screeching its rage and impotence and shame to the skybrothers high above. A’Yark, positioned some distance away from the scene of the fight, along the edge of the canyon, scrambled back even farther as its menacing, horned head and salivating teeth crept over the top of the cliff. She could feel her heart pounding, the acrid scent of fear filling her own nostrils beneath the facemask, and almost tripped over her robes as she stumbled backwards. It was an entirely sensible reaction to being in close proximity to a greater krayt dragon and…. whatever the black-armored creature was, but she still despised her weakness. She had come to observe, to discover the new threat that dared to cross Tusken lands. And threat he was; to the Tuskens, to the desert. But now she had to survive long enough to warn the others. She took cover behind a group of rocks, knowing that if the krayt turned in her direction, she was still too close to survive its attack.

And then, in a move that she should have expected from a creature who possessed the same powers as Sharad Hett and Ben and A’hsoka, the black demon leapt up and out of the canyon, a height of over seven hundred meters, flipped in mid-air, and came down directly in front of the krayt.

“There is nowhere to run,” he promised the dragon, and his voice was as deep and dark as a night without stars and rang with the echo of death. A’Yark shivered and despised her cowardice even more, but like the elder brother in Tusken legend, she didn’t stay any longer. She turned, not caring if either the krayt dragon or the black demon saw her and fled. She thought that they were too engrossed with each other to pay her any mind for the moment. To them she was nothing more than a womp rat or a dune lizard.

Her feet pounded on the sand and she clutched her gadirffi tightly, half-expecting to hear the steady breathing of the black demon gaining on her. Barely thirty seconds later, she heard the krayt dragon’s death – the hiss of the lightsaber, the awful sound of it cutting through flesh, the whine of a creature breathing its last, and then the ‘whomp’ of its body as it hit the ground. She was in the shadows of the mountains now and she turned back to look.

The black monster faced her over the expanse of desert, the krayt dragon dead at his feet. The red blade of his lightsaber was pointed towards the sand, but it remained lit. His cloak billowed in the wind, and that black faceplate was fixed unerringly on A’Yark.

The Tusken chief knew that this was a fight she could not win. Not alone. And so she turned her back to the dark creature, even though every part of her body screamed at her not to, and began to climb. He could follow her easily, she knew, hunt her down and slake his blood lust, or he could continue to follow his current path towards the wizard’s house. A’Yark knew what he would choose. She had watched him enough this day to understand.

She reached the top of the cliff, threw herself on top and rolled over the lip, panting as she tried to catch her breath. _On your feet,_ she commanded herself, leveraging herself up with her gaffirffi. She was getting too old for this.

She vanished from the monster’s sight.

Later, still monitoring the creature’s path from the safety of several kilometers distance, A’Yark rested in the shade of a rocky outcropping and idly wondered if the black demon was like the Tuskens -- that he hid his face from the suns for shame. Perhaps he had showed his true nature to his tribe, like the younger sun had at the beginning of time, or he had been shamed for his cowardice, like the elder sun had been.

She took a sip of water from her canteen and considered her previous assessment, watching the monster’s relentless progress across the desert. The suns were well past midday and eding towards late afternoon. _He_ chased the wizard, she remembered. The monster chased Ben, who seemed bound to this land, the unchanging sands of the Dune Sea and the deserts of Tatooine, in a way not even A’Yark and the Tuskens were. The black demon fought the monsters of the sands, the dragons in the earth and even the desert itself to reach the wizard. It was almost admirable; his perseverance. Any other being would have given up long ago. 

And A’Yark, despite her observation, was still uncertain whether the demon meant the wizard harm or if he sought the wizard for other reasons. She had no idea what those reasons could be, but revenge alone – even to a people used to violence and the strict, brutal cod of the desert – couldn’t be all that was driving him.

This black, cold monster of death sought the wizard as though nothing else mattered.

A’Yark wondered what the wizard had done to deserve such single-minded devotion. Or such single-minded hatred.

 

0o0o0

 

Vader’s suit was losing power, his durasteel joints were rusting up from the corrosion of sand, and the ever-present pain in which he lived – Kenobi’s final, parting gift to him, a burned and broken body – soon became all he could think of, the pain throbbing and thrumming and consuming him.

  
Yet still he pressed on. A sandstorm came and went. The run set and rose again. Vader did not stop. He would never stop. Somewhere up ahead Obi-Wan Kenobi still lived and breathed.

And Vader would find him at last.

  

0o0o0

  

“He is an outlander, a wizard. He dwells at the edge of the Jundland,” A’Yark said. The clan elders had not fought with the warriors against the bloated Hutt. They had little to no knowledge of who, and what, Ben was.

“He is of no concern to us,” A’Hdran snapped. Older than A’Yark, he had always been resentful of her place as leader of their clan. A wound to the leg from a baby canyon krayt dragon meant that, although he could still hold a gaderffii stick and ride a bantha, he would never pose a serious threat to A’Yark’s position as chief. The Tuskens respected only strength.

A’Yark pointed out over the endless sands where the black demon walked. She had a feeling he knew they were there. That he was simply biding his time. There was something about that which made her believe that unlike Ben, who sought peace, this creature sought death. “That is of concern to us. And it seeks the wizard’s dwelling.”

“Let the black shadow find it. Then he will go,” A’Kur said. He was the oldest of the clan. He rarely spoke, but his words were listened to when he did.

“That creature will destroy the wizard’s dwelling, and any the wizard holds dear. How long do you think it will be before the black demon finds the pale-haired child the wizard protects? What do you think the wizard will do when he returns?” A’Yark demanded.

“Will he even return?” K’shar queried. She was diminutive, even for an elder.

“Yes.” A’Yark was more certain of that than of anything else. The wizard would not have left the pale-haired one if he meant never to return. And the child still resided at its usual dwelling the settlers used to steal water from the air. 

“And what do you propose we do about it?” A’Koba asked.

“That creature, whatever it is, bested a krayt dragon,” mused K’Lee. She tapped ancient fingers restlessly on the hard rock beneath her. “And not a lesser canyon krayt,” she said, in such a way as made clear her disapproval of A’Hdran. “But a greater krayt. A monster out of legend. I did not know that any still walked the sands. How do we fight a being who can kill one?”

A’Yark felt relief that K’Lee was asking how they fight, not if they would. “Anything that lives, can die,” she told them, barely hearing A’Kur’s fears that if they did this, if they interfered in that which they did not understand, the entire tribe would be destroyed. Like those that had once lived on the edge of the Dune Sea, years before the wizard came. Instead she turned to looked out over the sands again. The creature, black like the bottom of a krayt’s lair, or a night without stars, had stopped walking. Over the vastness of the desert, he had turned towards the gathering of Tuskens and was watching them, his cloak billowing in the air despite the lack of wind.

A’Yark glared back and hoped that the red jewel of her missing eye caught the sun in such a way that the creature could clearly see her on the cliff’s edge. She ignored the tiny voice which cautioned that maybe a creature who sought the wizard was not one she, or any Tusken, could kill.

 

0o0o0

 

Obi-Wan’s house was plain and austere. Much like the man himself, Vader thought, as he paused in the doorway and looked through it and into a simple, unadorned sitting area. For a moment the noise in his head, the pounding of the rage that suffused his body, and the blood lust raised from his battle with the krayt dragon, mellowed into silence. There was a stillness to this place, a sense of…something…that Vader could just about recall, as though from a memory of a dream. But he couldn’t name it.

He could feel Obi-Wan though. He could feel the man all around him.

As soon as he stepped through the doorway, a light layer of sand and dust stirring at his movements, his old Master’s presence struck him like a physical blow. It hurt, a pain in his chest, but it was not unexpected. Obi-Wan had lived here for years. And not only lived here, he had infused the entire dwelling with some part of his essence. 

And it was as familiar to Vader as coming home.

Vader wondered if his old master still looked the same, if there was grey in his hair now – well, greyer at least. The man had forever gone on about his few grey hairs towards the end of Anakin’s apprenticeship. He had claimed they were Anakin’s fault and Vader supposed they were. Anakin had been a reckless fool.

He glanced towards the food preparation area but saw nothing to interest him. Instead he moved further into the sitting area and towards an unadorned wooden chest which rested along one wall. It was strange, he thought, bringing one hand up to run the fingers of his gloved and metal hand along the wall. He could feel Obi-Wan’s presence everywhere. For the first time in a long, long time he felt…warm.

Vader stood for a long time looking down at the chest. His master had been a man for whom possessions meant very little, but Vader knew that there were some things the man would have kept. He lifted the latch.

It looked like the chest had once held more objects. Vader could still hear the faint echoes of kyber crystals, familiar ones – Qui-Gon’s and Ahsoka’s and…and his – but they were gone now. Instead, at the bottom of the chest, were two things. One was a set of old Jedi tunics, black and more dramatic than the Jedi were usually wont to wear. They had once belonged to Anakin Skywalker.

And the second thing, wound around a protruding bit of wood located at the back of the chest, was Ahsoka’s old Padawan beads. Simple, round wooden beads, with an occasional colored one, linked by a bronze-colored metal chain. It had swung from her montrals in imitation of the braids worn by padawans who came from species with hair on their heads.

She had been so proud of it.

Vader reached out and brushed the beads with one giant, metal hand. He caught a brief flash of her smile, the tips of her teeth glinting in the sunlight, the kindness and compassion that always hovered in her blue eyes, and then he pulled he hand away.

No, he thought. No. And he turned away, closing the chest and heading towards the lower levels of Obi-Wan’s dwelling. The man’s presence clung down here even more strongly than it did in the upper levels. Vader realized that this wasn’t a surprised either. Obi-Wan had never been a fan of the heat. He would have made his sleeping area here, where it was cool during the day and warm at night. He would have also made his training and meditation area down here as well.

Although Obi-Wan had enjoyed meditating in a patch of sunshine, like a loth-cat from Lothal, as well. Anakin often found him so, and the Jedi Master would open up one eye, arch that infernal eyebrow of his and smile gently as he invited Anakin to join him.

Perhaps he had only meditated in sunshine to lure Anakin there as well, knowing how much his former Padawan had detested the too-cool air of Coruscant and the Jedi Temple.

Enough, Vader thought, fury rising in him, and tried to halt the memories in their tracks. But then he stepped through the doorway into Obi-Wan’s sleeping area and everything rose up once more, consuming him…

_“…just one night, Master,” Anakin begged desperately. “Just one. We’ll never speak of it again…”_

_…Very well, Obi-Wan agreed at last, quietly. He had seemed resigned to the prospect, rather than relieved or excited, and a part of Anakin not consumed by Obi-Wan’s presence, here at last, resented that fact. “Just one night…”_

It was only the scent of smoke, filtering through his respirator, which caused him to wake from the past at last. Something was burning. He turned and strode for the stairs leading to the upper level, but even before he reached them, several burning crates of food fell down them, skittering along the stone floor and striking the storage room, which instantly went up in flames. 

Vader knew Obi-Wan would have kept grains and dried vegetables in there. The man had never been partial to eating the flesh of living creatures, even when there was nothing else around. Vader watched, anger mounting, as the flames spread towards Obi-Wan’s meditation and training room and then to the sleeping area. Even as he looked, Obi-Wan’s thin mattress burned and the extra robe hanging off a hook in the wall went up in flames as well.

Vader couldn’t move.

Fire surrounded him. Fire. Mustafar. Obi-Wan. Padmé. _Obi-Wan._ He used his ever-present anger to burn away the memories, but the past still clung to him even as Obi-Wan’s house fell to charred ash above, burying him beneath the earth.

There was destiny here, he knew. He had been reborn in the fires of mustafar. Kenobi sought to destroy him, and he had instead shown Vader the truth. Now Kenobi sought his destruction once more, but Vader had learned much in his time under his Master’s teachings. Kenobi was a fool if he thought fire would bring about a Sith Lord’s death.

But then, Kenobi had always been afraid of true power. And lacked the wisdom to see that.There would be a way out down here. Kenobi would never have left himself only one exit. All Vader had to do was find it.

Vader called on the Force, submerged himself within it, felt the lifeforms as tiny flickers of light not far from Kenobi’s house.

_No, Anakin no!_ A voice cried, but it was far away. A dream within a dream. For a moment he could almost feel Obi-Wan around him, the man’s presence in the Force so strong in this place he had lived for years, that it was almost as though the man stood beside him once more. The flames flared higher. 

Vader was burning, and the pain reinforced his rage and gave him strength. He gathered the Force to him, and then he pushed it out in one, violent outburst. And the house exploded around him.

 

0o0o0

  

A’Yark and the Tuskens stood on the cliff across the canyon from the wizard’s dwelling burned red and hot under the black, night sky. She hoped the wizard had nothing of value in the place, but she suspected that the monster’s death would tip the scales in her favor.

Deen, her own son, too young to be warrior yet, had ben clever enough to re-wire the wizard’s machine which stole water from the air. The Tuskens had pushed it into the dwelling and Deen had attached it somehow to the thing he called a “generator. 

Then they had simply waited until the monster arrived. Now the Tuskens watched him burn. Fire purified all things, A’Yark knew. Many of the Tuskens grew restless around her as the flames rose ever higher, consuming the entire dwelling, before Ben’s house collapsed in on itself, buring the demon beneath the earth.

The warriors would not leave without her order to do so, but she could feel their judgment of her, their belief that she had grown soft since the wizard came, that she sought to ally with an outlander over her own people.

Fools, she thought contemptuously. They had not seen what she had seen, did not know even the small part of the outside galaxy that A’Yark did. A leader needed eyes that were open, she knew, but no one else in her tribe seemed to ever truly look at the world around them. She despaired for the Tuskens when she was gone.

It was better to ally with Ben than to fight him. She had once hoped to take him by force, make him a Tusken as her father had once made her sister, K’Sheek Tusken. But Ben was a force unto himself. And she knew the black demon was as well.

“It is done,” A’Hdran said to her in a low voice. “Why are we still here?” There was surprisingly more caution in his voice than the contempt he usually expressed towards her.

“We wait,” she told him simply.

“For what?”

“To see if he is truly dead.”

“Fire purifies all things,” A’Hdran reminded her, echoing her own thoughts. 

“True,” A’Yark agreed. “We will see.” But she doubted that even fire could purify a being the wizard hid from.

The flames fell into smoke and the blackened rubble of Ben’s house was a darker shadow under the night sky by the time A’Yark decided the demon was truly dead. She was about to give a hand low whistle to the others, signaling that they could depart, when she heard it. For a moment she thought she was imagining it, but then there it was again.

The steady breathing of a respirator.

It had never altered its rhythm, even while fighting the great krayt dragon.

And it was behind A’Yark and the Tusken warriors. A’Yark rose from her crouched position, gadirffi gripped tightly in her hand. She knew then, in those last horrifying moments, that she had miscalculated. The Tuskens should have hid and let the wizard handle the balck demon from his past. This was beyond her, beyond all Tuskens, and now there was no way out.

Still she readied herself, feeling the others stand beside her. A dark shadow stood beneath the night sky, the starlight too dim to show anything except a deeper black, a hole from which no light escaped. A flare of red broke the darkness, the blade of his lightsaber springing into life.

A’Yark sounded the Tusken war cry and looked once, just once, towards her son _. So,_ she thought, _this is how the Tuskens end._ In some distant part of her, even as she charged the demon across the black sands, she hoped that Ben, wherever he was, would come back one day, and avenge what happened here tonight.

 

0o0o0

 

The suns rose to find Vader standing amid a field of corpses, the blackened, faintly-smoking ruins of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s house behind him. He stood still, hearing their screams in his mind again, an echo from another night on this planet, many years ago now.

They had been animals, and he had slaughtered them like animals. He felt no regret.

The low hum of sublight engines broke the morning stillness. Vader moved out from the dead bodies and waited for the Imperial shuttle to touch down right in front of him. The ramp lowered and Captain Veers descended. He glanced once at the bodies behind Vader and then focused his attention on the SIth Lord. “My apologies, Lord Vader,” he said, standing at military attention, “but the Emperor has demanded your presence. Immediately.”

The wizened face of the emperor swam into view in hologram form aboard the shuttle. “Lord Vader,” Palpatine said, disapproval and even anger evident in his malevolent voice as Vader hastily knelt before the other Sith Lord. His Master.

“What is thy bidding, my Master?” he asked, hoping that his Master, despite all his power, could not sense the turbulence of Vader’s own thoughts and emotions in that moment.

For a long moment the Emperor looked at him. Just that. Then he said, “You have been busy, my old friend.”

“Yes, my Master.” There was no point in hiding the truth from his master. The Emperor always knew.

Vader could feel his Master’s narrowed eyed regard. “And did you find Kenobi?”

Vader bowed his head lower. “I did not, my Master.” Pause. “But he cannot hide forever.”

“Indeed,” the Emperor said.

Vader did not look up. He knew the Emperor was displeased at his recent actions, and Vader had hoped to present Kenobi’s head to him as a way to mitigate that displeasure, but that was evidently not going to happen just yet. He waited in silence to see what the Emperor would say.

“I expect a full report when you return, Lord Vader,” the Emperor murmured maliciously. “It seems Kenobi remains one step ahead of you yet again.”

Vader clenched his fist and tried to quell the sudden swell of rage that rose within him at his master’s words. The Emperor cackled. “But no matter that now,” he continued, as though Vader’s rage was unknown to him. “I have another task for you. It seems that Senator Organa,” and here the Emperor spat the words, making his opinion of the Alderaanian senator quite clear, “has been so foolish as to misplace his daughter.” 

Vader felt a flicker of surprise at the words. He had just seen the kid not even forty-eight hours ago. “Indeed?” he asked. “And how does that affect us, Master?” He looked up. This was unexpected and he feared that his recent AWOL behavior had caused his master to feel that another test was needed, to purge him of his past.

The Emperor’s face was thoughtful. “You report indicates that Organa and his wife have moved from contemplating treason to actively engaging in it. If you were to locate Organa’s daughter and bring her to me on Coruscant, we may have the leverage we need to force Organa to reveal those he is in league with. Besides, you are already familiar with the little princess’ kidnappers, I believe. From your past. Cade Bane and Aurra Sing. You should have no trouble following their trail.”

Vader nodded. That made sense. “It will be done, my Master,” he promised. 

The Emperor’s all-knowing gaze bore into him for a moment longer. Vader knew that his master could sense him across the galaxy. He tried to focus his mind. “Perhaps,” the Emperor mused, “your new mission will even draw out Kenobi. He and Organa were ‘friends’ I believe. And you will have your revenge at last.” The Emperor paused, then added. “Or he will finish what he should have on Mustafar, _Lord Vader_.”

And with a final cackle, the Emperor vanished. Vader’s hands clenched into fists, his anger rose up again, overpowering and untamed this time, and every transparisteel viewport in the Imperial shuttle shattered into a million pieces.

 

 

0o0o0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Notes: So, we followed the continuing adventures of Darth Vader, master of self-deception and the inability to truly know himself, in this one. He’s a difficult character to write the POV for, because he tends to lose his menacing qualities if you’re in his head too much, and I very much feel like Dark Vader should be menacing. Rogue One menacing. So I tried to show his parts of these two chapters mainly from a variety of viewpoints of the people around him…Bail, Veers, Cody and even A’Yark. Except when he had his testing in the desert in order to reach the Wizard, of course, and when he met Leia for the first time. 
> 
> One or two quotes were taken from “Lords of the Sith” as well as from John Jackson Miller’s story about A’Yark in A Certain Truth, “Rites”.


	5. Insurrection on Naboo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fragile détente in fighting caused by the Emperor’s rise in power has been broken. Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan has been captured by the vile bounty hunters Cad Bane and Aurra Sing, with both the Emperor’s henchman Darth Vader and hero of the Clone Wars, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi hot in pursuit of her. It has also come to the Empire’s attention that Queen Apailana of the Naboo is secretly harboring a band of Jedi fugitives.

0o0o0

 

“You little brat,” Aurra Sing snarled, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to backhand the tiny girl across the face. In a most unladylike move, the little princess had bit the bounty hunter. For the fifth time.

Bane, seated in a corner of the cramped cockpit, merely chuckled of course. “Finding a child hard to handle?” he mocked, his ridiculous hat hiding most of his face. He could be taking a quick nap for all Aurra knew.

“You’re more than welcome to come and take over,” she snapped at him, before turning and scowling at Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan. The little princess’ snow-white nightgown was hopelessly dirty now, from her third escape attempt through the airducts of the decrepit cargo freighter Sing and Bane had stolen for this assignment. She’d had to be dragged out of the ducts kicking and screaming.

Her brown hair was a rat’s nest, her face was covered in soot and carbon exhaust from the engines, and her face was pinched as though she wanted to start shouting. Aurra had put a stop to that after the first hour of it by taping the girl’s mouth shut. She had only ripped the tape off to force some nutribars down the girl’s mouth – which she had spat out defiantly before biting the bounty hunter – and was regretting even bothering. Now those brown eyes of her shot fire at Sing and Bane equally, before glancing around every few seconds as though looking for any more ways to get out of her.

“Just accept it, girl,” she snapped. “There’s no way out.”

Leia shot her an unimpressed look. “There’s always a way out. My mother and father will find me eventually. It will go easier on you both if you let me go now. I won’t even tell them what you look like.”

Bane started laughing. “Are you bargaining with us, child?” he asked, incredulous.

Leia glanced over at him before seeming to dismiss him and re-focusing her attention on Sing. “All of Alderaan will be looking for me,” she threatened. “My father will have even gotten the Imperial Navy to search.”

_What child talked like this?_ Aurra wondered, even as her fingers twitched to tape the girl’s mouth shut again.

“Little princess,” Bane said patronizingly, still chuckling, “you might be dangerous one day.” And then he motioned for Sing to re-tape the girl’s mouth shut. “We’ll be on Naboo shortly,” he told her in an undertone. “Our benefactor suggested that as the best place to disappear for a while.”

Sing shoved the bratty princess back into one of the recessed, enclosed areas where old droids were usually kept, and then slouched back into the cockpit. She dropped into the co-pilot’s chair and idly examined her nails. “So, who exactly is our mysterious benefactor?” she probed. Unknown benefactors always brought trouble in her experience.

Bane punched in a new series of numbers into the nav computer, dropped the ship out of hyperspace and took the wheel, corkscrewing the ship around until he aligned it on its new heading. “The less you know the better, Sing,” he promised. “I can promise you though, this one’s a really big one.”

“Uh huh,” she returned, unconvinced. She leaned back in the chair and plopped her boots onto the center console. “Big reward or big load of shit we’ve landed ourselves into?”

Bane just laughed.

0o0o0

 

Bail informed his wife that he had requested the aid of Obi-Wan Kenobi in order to find Leia, when R2-D2 rolled through the front doors and announced himself in his usual chirpy tones. Breha had greeted the droid kindly and finished her meeting with the Minister of Finance with her usual polite attention, but the look she shot Bail informed her husband that there would be words after the business was concluded.

After the Minister for Finance departed, Breha marched down the blue-carpeted hallways of Alderaan’s palace, Bail and Artoo trailing along in her wake. She led them towards Bail’s office where she waited with thunder in her eyes for Bail and Artoo to file through the doorway, and then she locked it behind her, the door closing with a hiss and enclosing the room in a sound-proof, eavesdropping proof bubble.

She spun, skirts flaring out around her, and Bail saw fire in her eyes, the same fire that Leia so often had when she thought someone wasn’t being treated right, or something was unfair. “So,” the queen of Alderaan said, cuttingly, “this is your big plan to get our daughter back. One man.” She looked utterly unimpressed.

Artoo beeped softly but Bail shook his head quickly at the droid. He knew how loyal the little being was to Master Kenobi, but this was something best handled by Bail himself. “A Jedi Master,” he corrected Breha softly. His wife had only met Jedi a handful of times and had never seen them in action.

“What can one old Jedi do?” Breha demanded, and Bail could hear the fear in her voice, the fear she refused to acknowledge, even in the face of their daughter’s capture. Breha never gave up. It was what he admired most about her. “We would have a better chance of finding Leia ourselves. The Jedi failed. They let the Sith take over and the Republic fall.”

Bail felt sadness fill him then, at those words which were believed even by his wife. He wondered if that is what history would write of Palpatine’s reign; that the Jedi had failed to stop him. He looked down and fiddled with the datapads on his desk. Well, not if he had anything to say about. “No,” he told his wife quietly, “the Jedi didn’t fail the Republic.” He looked up and met Breha’s eyes. “We, the Republic, failed them.”

She frowned at him. “They were our – ”

“-protectors,” Bail finished for her. “They fought our wars for us, did our dirty work, kept us safe and took all the risks. We became indolent in _peace_ ,” he spat the word like a curse. “We had forgotten that we, the citizens of the Republic, had a duty to maintain the Republic as well as the Jedi. Who of us truly believed in public service anymore? Who of us dedicated our lives towards others.”

“You did,” she protested.

“Yes,” Bail said. “Me and Padmé and Mon Mothma and a couple others. But it wasn’t enough. Corruption was everywhere; money and favors and bribes. We, the Republic, elected a Sith Lord to lead us. Our police force was filled with droids and those whom Palpatine bought too easily. Our wars were fought by clones we created in labs, and by Jedi who didn’t even have a voice in our government and who were _not_ soldiers. A Republic requires the participation of people learning to listen to one another,” Bail said, an old grievance, all his words of warning in vain, “not a band of mystical warriors required to fix our every problem.”

Bail stood up then, turned away from Breha and went to stand by the window. Snow was falling again, but it had lost its magic without Leia. “For thousands of years they kept the peace for us, they dedicated and gave their lives for us, and then when Palpatine betrayed them, we did nothing. The Temple burned, the children were hunted down one by one, and _no one_ came to help.” His voice was barely a whisper. He would never forget that night, or the young Padawan he’d tried to save and who had subsequently given his life to enable Bail to get away. Sometimes, when Leia was a baby, he would wake in the middle of the night, heart pounding and sweat covering his face, as he heard himself cry out in horror as the child fell. Only holding his little daughter in his arms was enough to finally to calm him, and often Breha would find them both there in the morning, Bail dozing in the rocking chair with Leia wrapped tightly in his arms.

Breha circled the room in a whisper of skirts and laid a gentle hand on his arms. “I’m sorry,” she said. 

Bail still couldn’t look at her. “I knew them,” he said simply. “They were friends. They were extraordinary. And the only thing people remember about them is…” He trailed off.

“Not as long as you’re alive, Bail,” Breha said fiercely. “History is written by the winners, we both know that. And we will win. Maybe not this decade, but someday. You’re not going to let their deaths be in vain, I _know_ you.” The conviction in his voice was all he needed. Bail turned, gathered her into his arms, and kissed her deeply. Their marriage had been for political convenience, but they had learned to love over time. Now Bail simply couldn’t image his life without her. He hoped that Leia was just as lucky someday.

“For Leia,” Breha said, stroking her hands gently through Bail’s hair. “For her, we will make this galaxy a better place.”

“For our daughter,” Bail agreed, gripping his wife tightly. “Now we just have to get her back.” He grimaced. “Before the Emperor decides she would make the perfect leverage against Alderaan.”

“Before Vader finds her,” Breha said, shivering. 

Bail tightened his hold even further. “We will never let that happen,” he swore. _Obi-Wan will never let that happen,_ he knew.

The Jedi Master landed in Aldera the next morning, and both Bail and Breha were on the palace’s secondary, private landing pad in order to greet him. The sun was shining and most of the snow had melted, although the peaks of the encircling mountain range still glinted silvery-white in the morning sunlight. The _Tantive-IV_ touched down, the landing ramp descended and Obi-Wan walked down, immediately spotting Bail and Breha and coming towards them.

Obi-Wan had always been a handsome man, distinguished looking, with amazing copper hair and deep blue-green eyes. During the Clone Wars both he and Anakin Skywalker had been touted by the HoloNet and the Inner Rim press corp as Coruscant’s most eligible bachelors.

An inhospitable desert and infinite grief had been hard on him. His copper hair was shot with grey, new lines touched his fair skin, and he looked exhausted and defeated. His plain Jedi tunic was neatly pressed but worn and patched in several places. He found a smile for Bail as he came towards them, enclosing the hand Bail held out to him in a warm grasp and laughing when Bail pulled him forward in a hug. “Thank you for coming, Obi-Wan.”

The Jedi Master felt too thin in his arms and Bail didn’t like it at all. He stepped back and let Breha come forward. “This is my wife, Breha,” he said.

Obi-Wan smiled and bowed over Breha’s extended hand, kissing the back of it gently and exuding the charm that had earned him the nickname “The Negotiator” during the war. “You Majesty,” he said, “may I just say that Aldera is truly as beautiful as I have heard. As is its queen.”

Bail could have sworn that Breha blushed, and her smile was genuine. “It is my pleasure to welcome you to Alderaan, Master Kenobi. A friend of my husband’s is a friend of mine, and you will always be welcome here as long as I reign.” She gracefully withdrew her hand, raised an impressed eyebrow at Bail, and then turned to lead them both back into the palace.

Bail shook his head ruefully. “You still haven’t lost your touch, my old friend,” he said. “It’s not any man who can make a queen blush.” 

Obi-Wan looked tired again and Bail wondered if he was even sleeping. The Jedi Master moved almost silently beside Bail. His keen gaze moved carefully around the area, assessing danger and an exit strategy. Bail could see him assessing the guards who stood silently along the palace’s hallway. 

“You will be safe here,” Bail assured him quietly. “Ahsoka has been here many times, her lightsabers in full display, and not a word has left this palace. I trust each of these men and women with my life.” He paused, then added, “I trust them with Leia’s and Ahsoka’s lives.”

Obi-Wan looked at him then, a quick, incisive glance, but didn’t say anything.

Breha had food waiting for them in Bail’s study. She must have noticed Obi-Wan’s emaciated appearance as Bail had. She also had Artoo waiting for them as well. The little droid whistling happily, shaking in his excitement, when he saw the Jedi Master again.

Obi-Wan’s smile was soft and fond. He rested a gentle hand on the droid’s dome and knelt to meet its photoreceptor. “Hello there, old friend,” he greeted, and Artoo’s whistles turned piercing in his joy. Obi-Wan stood up, eyes moving towards the platter of fresh fruit, cheese and a bit of bread which waited for him. He eyed it and shook his head, lips turned up in a rueful smile. He met Breha’s eyes. “Now, tell me everything you know about Leia’s capture,” he said, voice of command back in place, and he was General Kenobi, hero of the Clone Wars once more. 

Bail didn’t realize how alone he had felt in his fight against the Empire, how utterly overwhelmed he was dealing with Sith Lords, until Obi-Wan Kenobi clasped his hands behind his back in that familiar military pose of his and slowly walked towards the window, deep in thought.

Bail settled heavily in his chair and it felt like he could breathe again. Breha shot him a startled look, her dark eyes assessing, before she began to fill in Obi-Wan on everything that had happened. Bail was happy his wife had taken over. Breha was much better with detail than he was, and besides it gave him time to study his old friend, and in particular the Jedi’s reactions any time Vader as mentioned.

Artoo swiveled his domed head between Obi-Wan and Bail, Breha resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the undercurrents in the room she couldn’t understand – and then chided herself for a reaction her five-year-old daughter would have, one which was not appropriate for the queen of Alderaan – and continued the recitation of the events of that night.

“Our sources tell us that Bane and Sing are hiding out on Naboo,” she admitted, grimacing at the irony. It was the one place in the galaxy where Leia might be instantly recognizable as Padmé Amidala’s daughter. _Oh my darling,_ she thought fervently, feeling fear clutch at her once more, _be strong._

The Jedi was looking at her. He had kind eyes, blue like the summer sky, but mixed with green and grey, changeable. She tried to smile. “Will you be able to find our daughter, Master Kenobi?” Bail always spoke so highly of Obi-Wan Kenobi, and she had seen the holovids of the man as many times as Leia had, for her daughter made her watch them and Leia was absolutely enamored of the Jedi Master.

“I will do my best.” General Kenobi took her hands gently in his. “Leia is strong,” he told her, his Coruscanti accent lending him yet another air of authority on top of that which he already possessed, “like her parents.” He glanced at her and Bail as he spoke, but Breha couldn’t help but think of Senator Amidala and General Skywalker. She had never known them well. How much was Leia like them? 

“I am sure she is keeping them on their toes,” Obi-Wan said wryly and Breha, knowing her daughter, couldn’t help but smile. Yes, Leia most assuredly would be.

 

0o0o0

 

“No! No! Get back here you little brat!” Aurra howled, sprinting after the disappearing dirty-white nightgown of the little princess. Bane had demanded that Sing buy the girl clothing that actually fit – Aurra’s first attempt, purchased before they’d kidnapped the girl – had been disgraceful. So Sing had had to take Leia with her to the market place in Themysca, an ancient and elegant city in the Lake Country of Naboo.

Of course, the girl had taken the first opportunity to make a run for it.

Now, Aurra might have to kill several of these people, if Leia told anyone who she actually was, and this entire area would no longer do as a hideout until they got paid by the Organas for the ransom of their little brat.

This day had gone south real fast. 

“When I catch you….” She threatened and ran faster.

 

0o0o0

 

Alderaan was a small oasis off peace in a galaxy beset with fear and chaos. Obi-Wan sat cross-legged in the snow. It was soft and cold and wet underneath his leggings and tunic, and he was no longer used to it, but he breathed through it and gradually his body grew calm.

Hands resting on his knees, eyes closed as he listened to a mid-winter afternoon in Aldera, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi reached out to the Force and let it fill him. The sky was blue and small, white clouds darted across the sun. He could feel it on his face, warming his desert-burned skin. Alderaan was much gentler than Tatooine.

He was meditating in one of the royal gardens, in a secluded spot next to a fountain which had been turned off so as not to freeze solid in the winter months. There were hedges surrounding this area, high enough that no one could see over into this small alcove. Obi-Wan wondered if Ahsoka had found this spot useful for meditation as well. The wind was softer here, the snow almost melted, and around him the world was awash in white, brown, silver and blue. He could still see it in his mind’s eye as he centered his breathing and tried to empty himself of thought. 

It was harder here than it had been on Tatooine. Now he found his mind wandering to Leia, and whether she was afraid, whether Bane was hurting her…

…on her father…on Anakin…where was he? What was he doing? Did he ever think on Obi-Wan with anything other than hatred?... 

…on Ahsoka far away in the snows of Orto Plutonia…the Force moved around her strangely…

 …on Master Yoda alone in the swamps of Dagobah with nothing but memories to keep him company…

 …on Luke and Beru and Owen…

…on Bail and Breha…

Every time he pushed one thought, one worry aside, another one instantly took its place. There were too many things he had to do, too many places he had to be in, and nowhere was right. Nowhere was enough.

With a sigh, Obi-Wan let the thoughts come. He tried to stay above them, tried to hear the whisper of the wind through the garden, the feel of the warm sun on his face, but he realized that meditation was all-but impossible today.

He would try again tomorrow.

 

0o0o0

 

Leia Organa was a princess of Alderaan and princesses did not cry. At least in public. 

It was something her mother had once told her, and Leia tried to remember it now, when she was hopelessly lost in a strange city, on an unfamiliar planet, with a pair of bounty hunters on her tail. She knew she couldn’t outrun them for long. They would find her and take her back to their filthy, shaking, definitely-stolen ship and try and extort money from her parents.

Or something worse. 

Leia couldn’t imagine what this Cad Bane with his stupid hat, and Aurra Sing with her nasty expression, would do to her if her parents didn’t pay – Alderaan did not give in to the demands of terrorists and criminals – but she was sure it couldn’t be good.

_You are a princess of Alderaan,_ she told herself. “Excuse me please,” she said politely, tugging on the long shawl of a kindly-looking older woman.

The woman turned and looked down at her, a basket filled with fresh fruits and vegetables in her hands. Her smile was kind as well. “Yes, little girl?” she asked, “Are you lost?”

“I have to get back to Alderaan,” Leia explained, glancing around her furtively to make sure the bounty hunters were not too close. 

The woman’s smile turned placating, like adults’ smiles often did when Leia spoke; as though just because she was a child meant she was stupid or telling lies. “And why do we want to go there?”

And there was the baby voice adults used which Leia vehemently detested. She glared at the woman. “I am the princess of Alderaan,” she said imperiously, “and I have been kidnapped by bounty hunters!”

The woman laughed. Her laughter would have sounded merry if Leia wasn’t so exhausted, so scared and so fed up with the adults all around her. “I’m sure you are,” the woman said, still kind but telling Leia that she was being humored. She caught a glimpse of that odious hat Bane favored and her heart stopped. Fear course through her, despite her resolve not to be afraid like a big baby.

She kicked the laughing woman’s shin. Hard. And then darted back into the throng of people. She was too small, she wasn’t moving fast enough. Darting past a fountain that shimmered in the sunlight, she ran through several fruit seller’s carts, down a small alley festooned with window boxes that were filled with colorful, dangling flowers, and at last came out onto a mostly clear straightaway.

Directly ahead of her was a statue all in bronze. For a moment Leia looked up at the young woman the statue was made in the likeness of. She looked beautiful…but sad. And she seemed to watch Leia. 

“You! Girl!”

Leia gasped and whirled around, heart hammering in her throat. Bane was coming towards her, blaster drawn, and he looked furious. Please help me. Force, please help me. She wanted to cry. Mommy! Daddy! But of course, they could not hear her.

People were turning to look.

Leia fought the fear as best she could, tried to think, and remembered what the droid, Artoo, had told her once about what to do in a kidnapping situation. She screamed, loud and bloodcurdling. “Don’t let him take me!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. 

Then she took off running once more.

 

0o0o0

 

Obi-Wan Kenobi hadn’t piloted a ship since the Clone Wars. Now, at the helm of a Naboo light freighter, he dropped out of lightspeed, past the Imperial checkpoint using Bail’s forged identicards and fake IDs and beheld the small blue and green planet once more. 

The last time he had been here, he had brought Padmé’s body home to her parents. He had known her, he had been her friend, and it hadn’t seemed right to have it be anyone else to deliver the horrible news to her family. He still remembered how beautiful she looked, how peaceful, dressed in deep blue and with small, white flowers placed in her dark curls. He had wrapped the japor necklace around her fingers. She had given it to him as she lay dying and he had known, he had _known_ , that Anakin made it for her. Long ago.

She would be buried with it, he decided. She had loved him even though he’d turned into a monster and killed her. She had loved him as much as Obi-Wan had, and so the Jedi Master would honor that. 

Now he watched the fluffy, white clouds moving across the emerald and sapphire hued world and he was reluctant to engage the sublight engines to begin the last stage of their journey. From over at one of the console’s, Artoo beeped at him. Obi-Wan didn’t speak binary, not even after all the years he’d spent with Anakin, but he could guess the question well enough.

“We’re going, Artoo, never fear,” he reassured the little droid, on loan to him from Bail Organa, “although I have a bad feeling about this.” 

Artoo beeped worriedly.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed, grimacing and punching in a series of numbers into the nav computer. Might as well straight to the top. “A very bad feeling indeed.”

Obi-Wan was instantly shown to the smaller, inner throne room where the Naboo monarch held Council meetings. Queen Apailana, still quietly rebellious as Obi-Wan predicted, stood up at the Jedi Master’s approach. She was older now, but still comely in the way that very young women are – not yet grown into her full beauty, but flashes of it appearing. She was dressed in silver and grey, her face painted in the traditional mark of remembrance the queens of Naboo favored. 

“Master Kenobi,” she said, and her smile was genuine. “It is a pleasure to see you again after all these years.” And she held out her hand.

Obi-Wan bowed gallantly over it. “The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty,” he assured her. “I see the Naboo prosper and remain safe in these troubled times.”

Apailana seated herself and a chair was brought for Obi-Wan as well. He glanced around him at the queen’s council. The mayor of Theed, a middle-aged woman with greying, brown hair, seemed cautious at the appearance of a Jedi in their midst, the governors of several provinces seemed variously relieved or troubled, and former Captain of the Royal Guard and current Moff of the Chommell Sector, Quarsh Panaka, eyed Obi-Wan with dislike.

“This is not wise, Your Majesty. The Emperor must be made aware of these traitors. You bring great danger down upon us all by harboring them.” Panaka looked like this was an old argument. Even as he argued with this queen, his eyes never left Obi-Wan. While still a Padawan, Obi-Wan had appreciated Panaka’s loyalty and competence. He had thought the man might have respected him in turn. Apparently, that was – if it had ever been true – no longer the case. 

“I mean no harm to anyone here,” Obi-Wan said easily, cutting through Panaka’s tirade, “and I will be gone before any report reaches the Emperor’s ears as to my presence here. I am merely looking for information; however, I can’t help but notice that you said, ‘harboring them’. Who else is here?” He arched an eyebrow at Panaka before turning to fix his full attention on the queen.

She smiled at him. “Why, Master Kenobi, Jedi of course. As many Jedi as well could find.”

From next to Obi-Wan, Artoo let out an incredulous whistle. _I know exactly what you mean, old friend,_ he thought, and could feel a headache coming on.

 As soon as the meeting was completed, Queen Apailana took Obi-Wan and Artoo down several corridors of the Royal Palace until they reached the lower levels. There, in the main hangar bay, in a place that held too many bad memories for the Jedi Master, she and her handmaidens pressed along one of the stone walls until they apparently felt the latch they were looking for.

Part of the wall slid away, revealing a well-lit tunneling heading downwards. A wet, damp smell wafted up from below. Down towards the ocean, over which the Royal Palace was built, then. Obi-Wan would bet that wherever they were going also had a secondary exit behind one of the waterfalls, which fell beneath the Palace for several hundred feet before they rejoined the sea.

Artoo opened up his domed head and began to quickly scan the area. Sixteen life forms, he reported. Obi-Wan knew enough binary to understand that. He nodded his thanks to the little droid and followed the queen and her handmaidens down into the tunnel. The door slid shut behind them with a finality that sounded like a giant tomb. Artoo beeped forlornly. 

_Sixteen beings were down here. Somewhere. How many of them were Jedi? Had once been Jedi? How many of them had fallen?_

“Your Majesty, you are aware that Moff Panaka’s first loyalty is now to the Empire, and that he will betray you as soon as he feels that you have become a great enough threat?” 

Apailana’s laughter was like a tinkling brook. “Of course, Master Kenobi. I thank you for the warning, but I am counting on the fact that Moff Panaka is keeping the Emperor apprised of our efforts here.”

Obi-Wan’s surprise and disapproval must have shown on his face.

“You think me careless of the lives of my people,” she said, correctly reading him. 

“Surely you must realize that the Empire will invade, home world of Palpatine or not, and a great many people will die.”

Apailana walked in silence besides Obi-Wan for a minute. The only sound was the quiet whisper of her silver skirts. “Yes,” she said at last, and there was grief in her voice. She looked up to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes and the Jedi Master could read the resolve there. “But this is our fault,” she said. “We elected Palpatine into power. We gave him the authority of Naboo and he used it to destroy the Republic and every principle Naboo holds to.” She shook her head and stood up straighter. “How can Naboo claim to be a democracy, a peaceful, enlightened republic, when it follows a man as vile as the Emperor? How can we, of all people, stand by while freedom after freedom is bled from star system after star system and the Jedi are hunted down one by one?” 

Obi-Wan had no answer for her. It was the type of response Padmé might have given, before her marriage to Anakin and all the sorrows that had followed after, and which had turned her into a shadow of her former self.

“I know you were friends with Padmé Amidala,” Apailana said then, hesitantly looking at Obi-Wan out of the corner of her eye. The Jedi Master almost jumped at the echo of his own thoughts. 

“I was,” he admitted, not mentioning their tension over Anakin or the fact that she had died before his eyes, leaving her children to his care.

Apailana nodded decisively. “She would never have stood for what Palpatine is doing to the galaxy. She would have fought.”

Obi-Wan said nothing. There was nothing he could say to talk her out of this path she was set upon, and he wasn’t even sure that he wanted to. Perhaps she was right, and someone had to take a stand. But his gut twinged and he remembered the strength of the Empire, the apathy of the galaxy’s citizens, and the bitter memories of the Clone Wars. “She would have done her duty,” he agreed. 

The tunnel downwards eventually leveled out and soon they were walking in a widening hallway. Glowlaps were placed in the wet, stone walls at even intervals and the roar of the waterfalls could be heard as a constant, distant rumble. Obi-Wan observed the cameras and bulkheads which were placed every few hundred meters. “Are you trying to keep people in or out?” he asked quietly, aware of the blasters the handmaidens carried and wondering, for the first time, about Apailana’s true loyalty. She had more reason to be loyal to the Empire than to a homeless band of Jedi Knights – if Jedi they actually were.

Apailana didn’t seem offended by his query. “They are meant to slow down Vader’s Inquisitors.” They reached a closed door and she stopped to punch in a series of numbers into the keypad. “This way they’ll at least have a chance to escape.” 

Obi-Wan’s heart clenched at the mention of the Sith Lord and he silently cursed that traitorous organ. “Vader’s Inquisitors?” he asked. He had never heard of such a group before. 

Apailana’s face showed surprise. One of her handmaidens spoke up. “Where have you been living, Master Kenobi, that you have not heard of the Inquisitors?”

Obi-Wan’s smile was wry. “Somewhere peaceful,” he lied. Tatooine was many things – stark, strangely beautiful, lonely, terrifying, challenging – but peaceful was assuredly not one of them. 

“They are shadows,” another of the handmaidens put in, shivering slightly under her fiery robes.

“They hunt Jedi,” the first handmaiden explained.

 “Them and Vader,” another put in.

“I’m more afraid of _Vader_ than I am of any of the Inquisitors,” yet another said, and Obi-Wan could hear the fear in her voice and feel it in the Force.

“You’ve met him?” he asked them all, surprised. From what he’d been able to glean from the HoloNet back on Tatooine and from Bail and Breha, and even Ahsoka, Vader was rarely seen and most in the Empire knew of him as only a rumor, nothing more. Yet Queen Apailana and her handmaidens seemed to know him quite well, if their fear was anything to go by.

The door slid open. “He comes here,” Apailana said quietly. The room was filled with voices. It was a wide, cavernous room, stone ceilings dozens of stories above, the drip of water down the walls, the space filled with crates of weapons and ammunition, a partition in one corner which delineated the sleeping areas, and a huge area in the center which was obviously meant for sparring. There were Jedi in the center of the room and they turned as Obi-Wan appeared in the entrance, the queen beside him.

“Vader comes to Naboo,” Apailana continued, in a low undertone for Obi-Wan’s ears only. “He visits…a tomb.”

“Always the same one?” Obi-Wan asked cautiously. He was simultaneously astonished at this behavior, and yet not at all surprised.

“Yes,” Apailana confirmed, and Obi-Wan wondered if she had figured out why the Sith Lord visited Padmé Amidala’s tomb. She could not have known the whole truth, that the Dark Side fed on grief and regret and loss. Vader’s visits served no purpose to a Sith except to immerse himself further into the Dark Side.

Obi-Wan couldn’t believe that anything of Anakin Skywalker remained that sought to honor his wife’s memory instead. The armored monster had killed to many innocents for Obi-Wan to believe that any longer. “Ah,” he said quietly, and then he strode forward to greet old friends.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” a female voice called, a voice from Obi-Wan’s past. The blonde-haired Jedi Master that stepped towards him first was the same age as Obi-Wan. Her snapping blue eyes were the same as he remembered, her lithe former and riotous blonde hair unchanged by time, and the fierce smile she gave him could have come from his childhood when they’d competed against each other in everything. The only thing that had changed in Siri Tachi’s appearance was the appearance of lines of wisdom on her face. 

“Siri,” he said, and hugged. “I’m so glad you’re still alive.”

“Surprised?” she teased and hugged him back hard enough to hurt.

“Oof,” Obi-Wan told her, trying to pry himself loose, but she just laughed at him. Once he was free, he turned to greet Master Uvell at her side. There were several younger Jedi Knights as well. Siri introduced them as Thoren Var, Carise Dyn, A’lura, Della Vin Stoke, Kris’tel’kor, Phrien Tore.

“We’ve got a couple of former Republic Security Bureau members as well,” Siri explained.

“And what, exactly, do you all plan to do?” Obi-Wan asked, after he had been shown around and introduced. Siri’s smile was all sharp teeth and Apailana’s utter resolve in the Force did not reassure him.

“We’re planning to fight,” Uvell said. A middle-aged human male, his pale green eyes looked like shards of ice in the flickering light of the cavern.

“The entire Empire?” Obi-Wan asked, unamused.

Siri rolled her eyes and one of the younger Jedi, Kris’tel’kor perhaps, shot Obi-Wan a look of dislike.

“Of course not,” Apailana said. “But the fight against the Empire has to start somewhere. The Mandalorians have fallen, the Jedi have been hunted to the edge of extinction, and even the Separatist worlds have given up. It’s up to us to light the spark that will inspire people to fight back.”

Obi-Wan looked around at them all – a bare handful of Jedi, the small Naboo security Force, the army of Gungans they would no doubt call upon – and knew that they were no match for the Empire. He shook his head at this folly. “Palpatine is baiting you,” he said at last. “He will use any excuse to invade this place once he’s learned you have Jedi.” Obi-Wan looked at Siri and tried to impress upon his old friend the seriousness of the undertaking she had embarked on. “I am tracking the princess of Alderaan and it looks like the bounty hunters who have her are somewhere on this planet. If you don’t think Palpatine planned this or would use his own authority to send someone to “rescue” the princess, and in the process “discover” you all, then his complete takeover of the galaxy under our very noses passed you by.”

He had a very bad feeling about all of this.

“I am sure that he is,” Master Uvell said, arms crossed in contemplation. Obi-Wan could feel the unbalanced state of him, the anger and fear that he was barely managing to keep under control. “But it’s actually Vader that we’re hoping to lure here,” he admitted, and he spat the name. 

Obi-Wan thought he managed to keep his expression serene. Not so his Force presence and emotional state, given the sharp look Siri gave him. His fellow Jedi Master assessed him shrewdly. “Let’s show Master Kenobi around at our operation, shall we Uvell?” And without waiting for an answer, she waved for Obi-Wan to follow her and began to give him a tour.

She began with their munitions.

Siri was as vibrant as Obi-Wan remembered her, although now her presence seemed tinged with a hard edge – a sharpness, a desperation, even a ruthlessness that Obi-Wan could never remember seeing in her before.

He had never met Master Uvell before, but Adi Gallia had worked with him on several missions and mentioned his love of learning and quiet disposition. “You two would get on well,” she’d joked, sly smile darting out. “Neither of you would say a word to each other unless it was about some historical or scientific treatise.”

Force, sometimes he missed Adi fiercely. She’d been a good friend.

And another person Maul had taken from him. And from Siri as well, for Adi Gallia had been her master as Qui-Gon had been his.

Now, Obi-Wan listened and watched what had become fo the Jedi Order and felt disquiet steal through him as they proudly showed him weapon after weapon, plan after plan. There was too much anger and hatred here, too much emphasis on fighting the Empire, fighting _Vader_ , here and now. It did not feel like his brothers and sisters were thinking clearly; the lust for revenge ruled them, and it was not the Jedi way.

He took Siri by the elbow and led her off to one side of the room. He crossed his arms and examined her carefully, which she did not seem to appreciate.

“Don’t give me that look, Obi-Wan,” she said belligerently.

Always ready for a fight. She reminded him achingly of Anakin in that moment; too smart, too brave and burning too bright to last long.

He wanted to stop her, keep her safe, not let her Fall like Anakin, or die in his arms like Satine, but he knew her type – it felt like he had been in orbit around her, around Satine, around Anakin, his whole life – and he knew he could not save her.

Any more than he could save anyone he cared about. The Force seemed to delight in giving him harder and harder burdens to bear.

Still he smiled at her. That familiar, defiant spark in her settling something within him – all was right in the Universe.

Only for a brief instant though.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

She glared at him, affronted. “Just because I don’t hide and wait for everything to blow over, wait for some magical time when the galaxy is “ready,” doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing,” she argued, half-angry, half-defensive.

Obi-Wan had watched the same combination appear in Anakin over and over. He tried not to feel the sting of shame at her assessment of him. It was true, in a way; he had often felt that he was waiting to no purpose. He wasn’t even sure whether the Force kept him on Tatooine, or his own fear that he would just make things worse if he tried again.

What mattered now wasn’t him, or his fears. It was Siri and the Jedi surrounding her, and whether they were dangerously close to falling, or whether Obi-Wan was jumping at shadows that did not exist. 

“It is a dangerous time for Jedi,” he admitted quietly. “I worry that in our haste to right the wrong we have committed in letting the Sith take over, we are dooming the galaxy even further.”

Siri shook her head, flaxen hair flaring out around her. Satine’s hair had been almost white blonde, Siri’s was the pale gold of winter sunshine, and Anakin’s hair – those riotous curls Obi-Wan would sometimes catch himself longing to run his fingers through – were golden brown, changing hue as it suited him; sometimes as bright as the sun at midday, and others the color of desert sand under a swift sunset.

Siri’s smile was a twitch of the lips, always uncertain, as though her smile was a thing, she felt ashamed of. She shook her head fondly at Obi-Wan. “And sometimes, old friend, we cannot know whether a thing is right or wrong until after we’ve done it.” She reached out and tapped a finger against the crook of Obi-Wan’s elbow – her way of showing affection. “I don’t know whether it is better to wait or not. I don’t know whether we are fighting when we should be training Force-sensitive children or saving the artifacts in the Jedi Temples or recruiting allies.”

She turned and stared around her at the busy men and women who had gathered her to fight back against the Empire.

“All I know is that I wouldn’t be able to call myself a Jedi if I stood aside and did nothing,” Siri explained earnestly, and she looked back up at him and was the fierce girl Obi-Wan remember from their youth. She had always burned so very bright.

Obi-Wan smiled back but inside his heart misgave him. _Oh Force,_ he begged. _Let her be right. Please don’t take her as well._

 

0o0o0

  

Vader hovered alone in the darkness and meditated on the pain in his body.

It was a familiar exercise, one the Emperor assured him would grant him instant access to his rage and the power of the Dark Side. It was cold in this dark place, as cold as the magnetically-sealed chambers that were his aboard the _Perrilous_. He had just spent the better part of a day in the bacta tank onboard the Star Destroyer, and he could feel the restlessness inside him.

He couldn’t remember the time passing there, the Emperor’s guards, who watched over him during this vulnerable time, always injected the bacta with a soporific and he hovered in a daze. This time though, there had been something different; as though he had dreamed but could no longer remember what the dream had been about. 

His body felt strangely jittery, keyed up, in a way that it hadn’t in many years.

So, he meditated in order to suppress these useless feelings. His body had always been a curse – torn apart by useless desire – for Padmé, for Obi-Wan. They had betrayed him in the end, just like his useless body had. And then Kenobi had mutilated him, taken his limbs from him as though punishing an unruly child.

The Dark Side had not protected him then, he had been too foolish, to impatient, but he had learned from his mistakes and now he was here, and the Force flowed through him.

 

0o0o0

 

Obi-Wan waited with every appearance of passivity as Siri, Uvell and Queen Apailana tried to convince him to join. He heard all the usual enticements – he was a respected a General and a hero to the galaxy, this was the moment to strike a blow against the Empire, Vader would be there, they needed to re-establish the Jedi Order and defeat the Sith as soon as possible – without being moved.

Oh, he wanted to join the Jedi and the Naboo in their struggle against the Empire, but now wasn’t the time. If they failed and given their small numbers and the untrained nature of their forces versus those of the Imperial military that was the most likely outcome of this ill thought out insurrection, then there would be even fewer Jedi in the galaxy, and even fewer people like Apailana, who would stand against injustice.

So Obi-Wan gave several suggestions about deployment of troops, but not too many suggestions because he did not know the layout of Theed as well as its people did and he did not know the strengths and weaknesses of the Jedi gathered here, because he had not fought and lived beside them for years. 

And all the while he stalled as Artoo – who had passed unnoticed in the first rush of greetings and reunions – hooked into one of the computer consoles and scanned Naboo security footage for any hint of Leia, Cade Bane or Aurra Sing.

For that was Obi-Wan’s mission here on Naboo, not to fight the Empire but to rescue the Princess, and he would be cursed into oblivion if he failed yet another person that he loved.

 

0o0o0

 

It was cold here, it was always cold. He hardly noticed it anymore. Stretching out his awareness, Darth Vader felt the darkness all around. Once, long ago, at the beginning of his journey, there had been little pinpricks of light, butterflies of silvery-blue in the landscape of his awareness. He had decided that they were memories of Padmé, his wife, his light in the darkness…and he had crushed them. The foolish dreams of a weak man.

Anakin Skywalker was no more. He had died with Padmé Amidala, and now there was only Vader.

The meditation chamber was silent save for his steady breathing. Here there was no need for the respirator to which he was tied the rest of his waking moments. He would die within the span of several minutes if he attempted to breathe normally, but here, in this sealed chamber, the air was purified enough that his weakened, scarred lungs could take it in. 

At the beginning, when Vader was still new and Anakin Skywalker’s memories still so powerful and overwhelming, it had been difficult to last for long in the suit. But Vader had slowly and with consummate dedication, improved his stamina, and now it was far more difficult to take the suit off than it was to leave it on. The suit was what made him Vader, reminded him that he was held apart from the rest of the inhabitants of the galaxy, that his destiny was beyond anything those around him could contemplate.

It was his destiny to lose Padmé, his destiny to destroy the corrupt and traitorous Jedi, and his destiny to serve the Empire now, to bring order and security and even peace to the galaxy. All the pain and loss and rage he had gone through, all that was in service to something greater. Everything he had done, and everything he would do here, today, was necessary for the preservation of the Empire.

All was going according to plan and all was as the Emperor, his master, had foreseen.

“Lord Vader.” The voice of Captain Veers over the intercom, interrupting his meditation. He felt a reflexive swell of anger and told himself to nurture it, hold onto it. He would need it in the wars to come.  

“Yes, Captain,” he acknowledged. His voice was not as deep as he was used to, sounding weak and frail as Anakin Skywalker had been, but he knew that the intercom would distort it enough that Veers would not notice. 

“We have arrived, my Lord,” Veers said succinctly. It was what Vader liked about the man; he got straight to the point for he knew that Vader’s patience was limited.

“I will arrive on the Bridge shortly,” Vader told him. “All ships are to hold position well out of scanning range until I do. We want the element of surprise, Captain.”

“Very good, my Lord,” Veers said, and signed off.

Vader opened his eyes and hated the way even the dim light in his private chambers hurt his eyes. Weak. Useless. He floated his ruined body over towards where the droids and machines stood ready to assist him back into his armor. He had built and modified them himself and they worked seamlessly to attach the implants into his brain and top of his spinal column, to attach the cybernetic limbs to the stumps where Obi-Wan’s lightsaber had cleaved through him, and to completely enclose him into the thing which gave him power.

He was Darth Vader when he was in the suit, just as the Emperor had promised.

With a hiss the pressurized chamber opened, and Vader strode out. Captain Veers fell in beside him as he strode down the pristine hallways of the _Perrilous_ towards the lift. “Status,” he boomed, and his voice was deep and powerful once more.

“Holding position as ordered, my Lord,” Veers said promptly. He hesitated and when Vader did not object, he continued. “Captain Luitt was not best pleased to hide behind the moon,” he said, sounding reluctant to badmouth a fellow officer despite his loyalty to Vader. “He felt that it would be wiser to come out of hyperspace closer to the planet. To announce our presence and to awe them with the might of the Imperial Navy.” Veers’ tone was clipped and precise, reminding Vader for a moment of his old master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, when he was trying very hard not to say anything derogatory about the stupidity of those around him.

Translation, he felt that Vader was sneaking into the system. Sometimes the officers in the Imperial military were blind, small-minded fools.

Of course, Obi-Wan would have followed up his report with a snarky comment. Veers made no such movement to do so and for a brief moment Vader felt a flash of…disappointment. Which was absurd of course. Kenobi was a traitor and an enemy, and Vader most assuredly did not miss _anything_ about the man.

“Captain Luitt has always been a man unable to see what is right in front of him,” Vader rumbled and then internally winced even as he felt the Captain’s shock. It had been a joke, a terrible joke, and he had no idea why he’d even made it. He blamed Obi-Wan and their current location. He blamed the fact that he’d been thinking about his old master, lost in the past, and remembering all those pithy comments that had flowed like water off Kenobi’s tongue. He blamed the fact that he’d spent the last several days chasing the man across the deserts of Tatooine and had almost been burned alive in the Jedi Master’s house.

It felt like old times.

It had been a joke because Captain Luitt wore glasses – or rather pliable plastic lenses placed directly on his eyes – for near-sightedness. Everyone on the bridge of the _Perrilous_ knew that. Probably everyone on the entire Star Destroyer knew that.

It had been a bad joke because it wasn’t even funny.

Furthermore, and most importantly, Darth Vader did not tell jokes. If Veers laughed Vader might have to kill him on principle, which would cause the Emperor to reprimand him again on another dead subordinate. Fortunately for all concerned, Veers seemed uncertain from Vader’s tone whether his comment had been meant as a joke or not. He waffled uncertainly for a moment and then settled on an entirely neutral, “Yes, my Lord,” which simultaneously relieved Vader and made him angry.

Obi-Wan would have arched that infernal eyebrow at him, utterly unimpressed, and Ahsoka would have rolled her eyes and muttered something about “Dad jokes.”

Vader squashed the memories and strode faster for the lift.

Darth Vader and Captain Veers exited the lift onto the bridge of the ISD- _Perrilous_. The muted hum of conversation from all stations instantly ceased at the appearance of the Sith Lord. An uncomfortable silence descended. Captain Luitt stood before the viewports with his arms crossed. His annoyance bled through into the Force, although that might have had less to do with Vader and his tactical decisions and more to do with the presence of eight Inquisitors who lounged and lurked and hovered across the bridge.

Vader moved up the main walkway, cloak billowing behind him, until he stood at Luitt’s side. “Is there a problem, Captain?” he asked menacingly, and took pleasure in the automatic and instinctual wave of fear that swamped the greying military officer.

“No, Lord Vader,” Luitt replied immediately, stiffening to an even more severe form of military attention. As though that would deter the Dark Lord from retribution if he felt the Captain had out served his usefulness to Vader and the Empire.

“You are confused, perhaps, as to the reason for our current position behind the moon?” Vader continued. Captain Luitt tried to look like he wasn’t confused in the slightest.

Vader was amused by this even as it brought back memories of Kenobi, for the strategy was one employed by his old master. Ships coming out of hyperspace, in full view of the planet, were often in disarray and needed time to move to battle stations. Furthermore, it was impossible to determine the setup of the enemy at first glance. If there had been time – a rare commodity in the Clone Wars, when the Jedi were stretched impossibly thin across the Republic – Obi-Wan had preferred to ascertain the enemy’s immediate strength and resources, before deciding best how to deploy his forces. 

Furthermore, the microjump Obi-Wan then ordered had the same effect upon the enemy as Luitt wished for. It would look, to all intents and purposes, as though a group of Star Destroyers had dropped out of lightspeed, battle ready, and immediately able to counter the enemy’s armada, deployment or anything else they had prepared.

It was a clever strategy, much like the man himself. And now Vader would use his old master’s ideas in the service of the Empire.

“Captain Veers,” Vader said, turning away from Luitt. “What is the status of the fleet surrounding the planet?”

Veers stepped over to the nearest tactical display and began reading the reports. “Limited planetary defenses, several squadrons of small, one-manned fighters which have been launched from the ground and are sweeping the system, but don’t appear aware of our presence. Most of their forces are infantry and deployed in and around the capital city of Theed.”

“Very good, Captain,” Vader said without turning away from the forward viewports and the green and blue jewel that was Naboo which hovered there. He stood and breathed for several moments, feeling the Inquisitors gathering behind him.

“Grand Inquisitor,” he said at last, “prepare for deployment to the planet’s surface.”

He swung around and faced Luitt, feeling the man flinch under his implacable gaze. “Captain, I want a full planetary bombardment centered on the capital city. Their shields will only hold for so long, and when they fall, I want a full invasion of the city. I will be leading the ground forces. The Jedi are down there, I can feel it. We will deal with them all.”

“Very good, my Lord,” Luitt said promptly and began issuing orders, but Vader had already forgotten him, striding back towards the lift, the Inquisitors and Veers trailing in his wake. He felt the _Perrilous_ and the six other star destroyers that accompanied her prepare for the microjump to within full view of the planet.  As the lift descended, he felt the ship re-enter normal space and he knew the sight that it would make, a full contingent of the Empire’s mightiest ships exiting hyperspace in battle formation. Alarms wailed, men and women ran to their stations, and the heavy guns began firing without ceasing.

Vader exited the lift at level forty-seven and headed towards the east hangar bay. His modified TIE-fighter was prepped and waiting. He swung in and punched in the startup sequence.

Yes, the past was all around him today. It felt like he as drowning in it. But soon Vader would crush it, permanently. This Jedi Rebellion on Naboo would be crushed, the Naboo queen shown her proper place under the Emperor’s new order, and whatever ghosts still lingered here, Vader would personally obliterate.

“All fighters,” he ordered. “Launch.”

 

0o0o0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…Anakin told a joke. It might seem out of character but remember Rogue One when he makes that pithy comment to Director Krennic? Channeling his inner Obi-Wan, lol.


	6. Rebellion and Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jedi act on Naboo and again on Orto Plutonia, but the Empire is waiting for them.

0o0o0

 

Ahsoka Tano, also known as Fulcrum, dropped out of lightspeed in the small, rickety transport she’d borrowed from Bail for this mission, and immediately checked her scopes. Nothing except routine traffic going into and out of the Orto Plutonia system. In the distance, a Star Destroyer held position, seeming to be just a regular patrol looking for smugglers or pirates, or even potential rebels. Although why the Empire would suddenly be interested in rebels in this system, Ahsoka had no idea. Yet. She would have to look into that later. She still had a couple of contacts out in this region and more would find her the longer the Empire was here. 

Her old friend, Admiral Yularen, was now head of the Imperial Security Bureau, the feared ISB, and she had crossed paths with him on numerous occasions during her work setting up rebel cells, although she was certain he didn’t know of her existence yet. Her deep-cover agent within the ISB itself had said that no mention of a rebel spy known as “Fulcrum” had crossed the former Admiral’s desk, although the ISB was currently cross-referencing all known rebel activity. The deep-cover agent had put forward the theory that there were multiple spies each for the different cells, and as this was the most likely scenario, the ISB was busy trying to disprove it.

That would keep them occupied for a while longer. Ahsoka was careful, very careful, and Master Obi-Wan had taught her a lot about deep-cover work. She’d even gotten a few pointers from Master Quinlan Vos and even the elusive Master Siri Tachi, back when she’d still been a Jedi and the Order still existed.

They had been some of the best the Jedi Order ever produced when it came to undercover work and espionage. She still remembered the Rako Hardeen incident, and Master Obi-Wan’s deception which had even fooled her and Palpatine. In retrospect, it had been a good idea to keep the mission secret even from Anakin, although when she remembered her master’s grief and rage, the depth of his pain, she wished Master Obi-Wan had left them both in the loop. Just as she wished Anakin hadn't been so close to the Chancellor.

She had wondered about the relationship between her two Masters many times during her apprenticeship, none more so then after Obi-Wan’s “death”, and she had been unsurprised that Anakin could feel his master, could know with certainty that he was still alive, even when Master Obi-Wan was hiding in the Force. No one else could have felt such a thing, she was sure. But Anakin had.

She wondered if Master Obi-Wan could feel Anakin now, wherever he was in the netherworld of the Force. If anyone could breach the boundary between life and death, it would be those two. Their bond had been so strong in life that Ahsoka was positive not even death could alter it.

All scans came back negative and Ahsoka set course for the line of traffic heading in past the hovering star destroyer and towards Pantora.

Orto Plutonia hung huge and icy-white before her. A frigid planet long believed to be devoid of life, it was orbited by a single moon, Pantora, home to a blue-skinned humanoid people named the Pantorans. Ahsoka had never been to Pantora proper, although she heard it was a warm and humid place primarily made up of marshland. A friend of hers from her time with the Jedi, Riyo Chuchi, had served as Senator for Pantora during the Clone Wars. Riyo had been close with Senator Amidala as well but had stepped down as senator of her system before Order 66 and the fall of the Republic.

Ahsoka had not seen her in many years and had been surprised when she had received contact from Riyo in the underground channels she used as Fulcrum. It seem the other had become a resistance fighter in the intervening years.

The ship pinged and then beeped at her, one engine going dark and an alarm sounding. “Blast,” she snapped, wishing for the tenth time that Artoo was with her on this particular mission. She flipped several switches, diverting power and hoping the poorly-maintained parts of this freighter held together long enough for her to get groundside. She turned the alarm off, more annoyed by its blarring than helped by it. Eventually she got the second engine to fire once more and the ship straightened. Ugh.

Some days she really understood Master Obi-Wan's stated aversion to flying.

Riyo would meet her on the first floor of Pantora’s governmental communications center. She didn’t know that it was Ahsoka who would meet her, having merely been told that a rebel spy would find her at the specified time and location.

Ahsoka wondered how Riyo looked after all these years, if she was still as beautiful as when they were girls. Would she be happy to see Ahsoka, or was the past between them best left forgotten?

“Unidentified freight,” came a no-nonsense voice over the comm system, starling Ahsoka out of her useless reflection, “transmit your transponder code ad designation coordinates.”

She sighed; mindless imperial bureaucracy at its finest. “Right away, sir.” And then she was in.

The Valorum Communications Center was the main hub for the holonet in Capital city, as well as housing various assorted and borderline illegal, government oversight programs, courtesy of the Empire. It was a stunning building, as tall as any skyscraper on Coruscant, and glittered like a jewel in the light of Pantora’s rising sun. The windows shone in blues and silvers, the entire structure elongating outwards at the center and then coming to a point again at the top. Durasteel beams, twisted into winding shapes like the vines of tropical flowers connected the panes of glass and transparisteel. At the base of the building was a tasteful area of benches and grass, mixed with some flower beds festooned with vibrant blooms in many different hues, which had been created to welcome the constant stream of visitors that poured through the main doors.

Ahsoka stood on the sidewalk, the hum of rushing landspeeders behind her, and watched for a moment as Pantorans and humans and even several other species, filed into and out of the communications center. There was a security guard but he looked lazy and unobservant; likely they had never had a problem at the center.

She shaded her eyes with one hand and glanced up at the building. A sensor dish array had been placed on top – a giant one – with several smaller ones attached to it. It looked fairly new and was probably Imperial regulation. A patrol of TIE fighters screamed by overhead and she dropped her head again, reflexively pulling up her hood to hide her distinctive montrals.

Even this far out in the Outer Rim, the Empire was a daily part of life.

She walked across the park-like area, nodded genially at the uncaring guard, and entered the building. The first thing that caught her eye was a platoon of stormtroopers waiting for one of the many lifts. They were talking amongst themselves but two of them kept a watchful eye on the rest of the room.

The second thing she noticed was the amount of light in this room. The glass and transparisteel meant that natural light filtered in from all directions. Everything was open and spacious and stunning, golden rays of sunshine creeping across the floor and touching the faces of sleepy-looking Pantorans. Several giant trees had been grown right in the center of the building, their lined trunks bending gracefully upwards until they terminated in a growth of wide leaves, vaguely reminiscent of the feathery fans the Zygerrian queen had used to cool herself in the hot climate of her horrid planet, during the Clone Wars.

The third thing she noticed was the beautiful, petite Pantoran woman with the huge eyes who was staring at her in wonder and amazement. “Ahsoka?” Riyo Chuchi breathed like a prayer.

Ahsoka’s smile was involuntary, as was her automatic motion towards the other woman. Ahsoka crossed the atrium in seven long strides and then her arms were around Riyo and she was laughing and crying at the same time, grateful that Riyo’s arms clutched her back equally hard.

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” Riyo said softly, her sweet, musical voice just as Ahsoka remembered it. Ahsoka buried her face in the other woman’s hair and held on, closing her eyes. It felt almost as good as being reunited with Master Obi-Wan on Tatooine for the first time.

“I can’t believe I’m still alive either,” she admitted with a little laugh. She pulled back a bit in order to get a good look at the other woman. Riyo Cuchi had only grown more elegant and even lovelier since Ahsoka last set eyes on her. Her large, golden eyes were warm, her pale lavender hair was worn long and woven with faint strands of gold, pulling it back from the sharp features she had finally grown into. She was still much shorter than Ahsoka, but she held herself with confidence and purpose and there was something incredibly attractive about that.

Ahsoka watched several other Pantorans examine Riyo with interest and approval. “You’ve grown,” she said simply, knowing it was not the compliment she wanted to say but also knowing she had no time, no place to express anything else, given her duty to the Rebellion. _Purpose must come before feelings,_ she remembered her Jedi teachers telling her.

Riyo raised both eyebrows and shook her head, smiling. “So have you, Ahsoka. You look lovely.”

Ahsoka felt her cheeks heat at this unexpected compliment and she released her old friend entirely except for a loose grip kept on her hands. “Your message sounded urgent. Where can we talk?” And just like that, Riyo was all business again. Pasting on a professional smile that in no way reached her eyes, and was for the sole purpose of deceiving anyone who was paying slightly too much attention to them, she waved for Ahsoka to follow her.

“This way,” she said, pitching her voice to carry. “And I will show you the problem.”

So Riyo worked for the communications center now - in her day-job at least. That could prove very useful for the rebels someday.

 

0o0o0

 

Obi-Wan stood at one of the massive windows of Theed’s royal palace and watched as Imperial troops marched into the city. Rank upon rank of stormtroopers filed down the cobbled streets, white armor gleaming in the sunlight, the stamp of their boots and the roar of their tanks filling the air, and at their head was a figure he had never thought to see again.

Darth Vader strode before them, red lightsaber ignited like a jagged gash, black armor menacing, his black cloak billowing and his presence in the Force like an open wound. It was entirely self-preservation that caused Obi-Wan to automatically close down and hide himself in the Force.

Vader’s presence was a howling maelstrom, a black hole of darkness and hatred and pain from which there was no escape. It sucked up everything good in its path and Obi-Wan could still feel the echo of it even after he’d blanketed his awareness in the Force. He gripped the windowsill before him hard, trying to remain upright under the waves of pain and anger and could barely hear Artoo’s whistles of concern as the world swam and turned shadowy before him.

 _How pathetic,_ he thought wryly, but he knew the reason he was so affected by the Sith Lord’s presence, even after all these years apart from the other man. Even after their bond had been severed. Even now when anything of Anakin that remained in that…that _creature_ before him, was long buried and forgotten. Obi-Wan and Anakin had been two sides of the same coin, two halves of a whole - a single warrior in two bodies. They had been bound together for so long, united in the Force, that Obi-Wan could feel Anakin’s…no Vader’s presence in the Force exponentially more powerfully than any other Jedi could.

Even from this distance.

He gritted his teeth and breathed until the feeling passed. “I’m alright, Artoo,” he assured the little droid, and watched as Siri, Uvell and the Jedi Knights behind them ignited their lightsabers; the glow of their blues and greens, and even one yellow, double-bladed weapon, a light of defiance in face of the darkness.

Yet behind Vader came a swarm of his pet Inquisitors. They were shadows in the Force, not the black hole that had sucked up Anakin Skywalker, yet their stain upon the Force was easily felt.

Obi-Wan watched their red blades revolving around a center handle. It was an intimidating design, but he saw the flaw in their construction right away. A Master with enough training would be able to take them apart with no trouble at all. For a moment he wondered why Anakin would allow such foolishness among his followers and then he remembered the constant betrayal and fear of betrayal that haunted the lives of those who sought their power form the Dark Side.

Vader had no need to fear that the Inquisitors would ever take his place with the Emperor, not when they were so poorly trained compared to him.

Blaster bolts filled the air, several Naboo tanks fired and the line of stormtroopers scattered towards defensive positions behind buildings and speeders and raised beds filled with plant and trees. The Naboo were found of incorporating nature into their cities but right now it worked against them. It gave the Imperials plenty of places to hold defensible positions, while also keeping up a steady stream of fire upon the Naboo security forces.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but be drawn back to Anakin. To Vader.

The Sith Lord didn’t bother to take cover. He strode on through the hail of blaster fire unconcerned, his red blade a blur of motion and using the Force to casually toss aside blaster bolts, bombs and even the occasional Naboo soldier that got in his way.

Obi-Wan admired the efficiency of his movements even as he deplored their results. Vader was horrifyingly compelling as he moved inexorably through the hail of blaster fire. Anger and rage poured off him in an almost-overwhelming psychic storm in the Force, battering against Obi-Wan’s formidable shields. The sunlight shown over the black armor which encased him from head to toe and an invisible, unfelt wind sent his black cloak billowing out around him. His red lightsaber was a ceaseless blur of motion, heedlessly deflecting blaster bolts away from him and towards the buildings around the battlefield. Crumbling brick, mortar and stone added to the cacophony.

Obi-Wan was unwillingly impressed to observe that more than half of all the shots directed at Vader were reflected back to the shooter, causing them to dive out of the way or crumble to the ground – dead or dying.

He was a terrifying portent of death.

Obi-Wan watched him fight Siri – one of the best lightsaber duelists the Order had produced in several generations, right up there with Mace Windu, Yan Dooku and Adi Gallia, her master. Yet Siri’s Ataru was hard-pressed against the combination of Makashi, Djem So and Vaapad Anakin seemed to have created into a new form in the wake of his injuries. His strength, vastly enhanced by his mostly-machine body, was added to a speed that would have to be seen to be believed.

Obi-Wan watched Siri’s eyes widen as she fought him, a flicker of fear darting across her features. Master Uvell, barely holding off three of Vader’s shadows at once, tried to help her and Vader carelessly grabbed his wrist and tossed him aside.

Force he was good.

Obi-Wan stared at the machine who had once been Anakin Skywalker and for the first time in years, for the first time since he learned of Anakin’s Fall, he felt…annoyance towards the other man.

He had spent years, _decades_ , trying to get Anakin to fight smarter, to utilize his own unique abilities and strengths in order to create a lightsaber combat form just for him. Every Jedi took a form and made it their own, but Anakin always just defaulted to basic Djem So during the Clone Wars, even when another form might have been more effective. It had been frustrating and even infuriating, and yet now, under his tutelage from a _Sith Lord_ , Anakin had finally learned to do what Obi-Wan could not teach him to.

Typical.

If he ever got his hands on Palpatine…

Artoo beeped at him again and Obi-Wan knew that it was time to go. Vader was distracted by Siri Tachi launching herself at him, Uvell coming in low for a blow that should have taken his legs off. The queen had taken to the battlefield now, her handmaidens a blur around her and her aim decent as she got off a few shots towards a group of stormtroopers who were among the closest to her palace.

Naboo starfighters swooped low, performing a dangerous, but accurate, strafing run.

Artoo beeped again. Obi-Wan really should go. Now was the time. They had discovered footage of Leia running through a marketplace in Naboo’s Lake Country. She looked terrified and was still dressed in the white nightgown her parents said she had been taken in.

Obi-Wan knew that Bane and Sing wouldn’t remain in their current location for long and if he didn’t move fast, the trail would grow cold in no time. He was no Quinlan Vos that he could touch an object hours, even days later and pick up Force impressions from it.

Vader pushed Siri back with a powerful Force shove. She threw up her arms and managed to hold onto her lightsaber and keep her feet under her, but she was off palace as he came in for the follow-up blow.

It was pure instinct that had Obi-Wan throwing out a hand. “Anakin, no!” he shouted, his voice echoing around the empty Royal Palace and reverberating in the Force.

He watched, half-horror, half-hope as Vader faltered in his downward stroke. Siri rolled out from under the red blade, threw herself backward and then came up swinging again. Obi-Wan didn’t miss her bright hair flaring out as she glanced up at where he stood high above the battle.

Obi-Wan let his hand fall and silently cursed himself for an old fool even as he cloaked himself in the Force once more. He watched Uvell move in to engage Vader once more. He watched an Inquisitor take out one of the Jedi Knights, he watched two of the handmaidens fall, throwing themselves in front of blaster bolts meant for their queen.

He knew he should leave but he found himself running down the main staircase, hood thrown back to reveal his recognizable features and his familiar lightsaber clutched tightly in his hands.

The battle raged all around him, blaster bolts of green and red lighting up the midday sky. Bodies wearing Imperial stormtrooper white and the brown and red garb of Naboo security forces and even the traditional armor of the Gungans lay strewn about a courtyard that, just yesterday, had been filled with laughter and life.

Now there was only death.

Obi-Wan exited the palace as another Jedi fell. He could hear Artoo frantically coming after him, whistling and beeping like mad. He had thought he was stronger than this, more dedicated to his purpose than this, but he found that he could not let the Jedi stand against Vader alone. Anakin was his responsibility; had always been his responsibility. If anyone should be standing between Vader and the death he brought with him, it was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

It was Siri who saw him first across the battlefield, of course. Without even pausing she spun, hands thrown out in front of her and she Force shoved him hard back through the open door and into the shadowed atrium of the Royal Palace.

Obi-Wan landed hard on his back, utter surprise at her move causing him to fail to keep his feet. He lifted himself onto his elbows and looked out into the chaos.

Siri’s moment of inattention should have cost her life, but by the time Obi-Wan raised his head to look out over the battlefield, Anakin and Siri were locked in heated combat once more.

Siri’s blue lightsaber moved faster than thought but even Obi-Wan, from this distance, could see that she was tiring. Vader seemed to power himself by sheer rage alone, yet five years on the run, without the support of the Jedi Temple, had slightly worn Siri down. Obi-Wan could see it. Knew that five years in the desert had worm him down in certain ways as well – and he knew Siri’s more cautious strikes meant she was aware of it as well.

They were still evenly matched. Obi-Wan pushed himself to his feet, hesitated a moment, and then clipped his lightsaber back to his belt. Siri’s opinion on whether he should join the battle had been clear. Although utilized as a spy by the Republic instead of as a general during the Clone Wars, she knew how to read a battle as well as Obi-Wan.

The Jedi and the Naboo were going to lose. Obi-Wan’s presence wouldn’t make a difference either way, even against Vader. All he could do now to help them was complete his original mission; rescue Leia.

It still hurt; the knowledge that he could do nothing.

Master Uvell fell, the combined strength of four inquisitors was too much for him. His green lightsaber dropped from now-lifeless fingers, its blade extinguished, and Obi-Wan watched helplessly as a huge, hulking inquisitor, whom he vaguely remembered form the Temple, turned immediately and struck at Siri. The Jedi Master turned and parried the blow, Force jumping away from Vader’s follow-up strike. Three inquisitors were down, permanently, but the only Jedi left was a Twi’lek knight. She moved to put her back to Siri’s and Obi-Wan could read the knowledge of their deaths in both their eyes.

There was nothing Obi-Wan could do to help. The Empire was enveloping the far more disparate and less heavily-armored Naboo and Gungan forces. Queen Apailana and her handmaidens were trying to fight their way over to the Jedi, who had born the heaviest concentration of fire on top of the combined assaults of Vader and his Inquisitors.

The queen would not arrive in time. Obi-Wan put a hand on Artoo’s dome, stopping the little droid from entering the fray. He was far too loyal and courageous for his own goo.

“No, old friend,” he told the droid sadly. “There’s nothing we can do.”

Artoo beeped forlornly but he stayed by Obi-Wan’s side.

Siri glanced away from Vader and towards Apailana and her handmaidens frantically fighting their way in her direction. She said something to the Jedi beside her and then she disengaged her blade from the Sith Lord’s in front of her, switching it off. Obi-Wan could feel her reach out to the Force.

The Twi’lek Jedi – A’lura, Obi-Wan thought her name was – started running and jumped, and Siri grabbed her with the Force, throwing her up and over the battle before anyone else could react. She landed on the roof of the building closest to her and vanished from view, a hail of blaster fire shooting uselessly after her.

Obi-Wan heard Vader’s deep, booming voice even over the heavy cannon. “Find her and bring her to me.” And the inquisitors immediately obeyed.

Siri turned to look behind her at Vader. Her golden hair whipped around her tired face, glinting pale gold. Her smile was sad but strangely hopeful. “You won’t find what you’re looking for here, Anakin Skywalker,” she said softly, more a whisper through the Force than anything else, but Vader heard her and the echo of her words through the Force traveled clearly to Obi-Wan.

The two Jedi felt Vader’s resulting rage and a soul-deep spike of fear. It was so strong that Obi-Wan wondered how anyone in a ten-mile radius who was the least bit Force sensitive could fail to feel it.

Vader himself didn’t hesitate. Even as Siri met Obi-Wan’s eyes in the shadows, blue on blue, Vader drove his glowing blade into her undefended back and straight through her heart.

Siri Tachi died instantly, her faint presence lingering only long enough to softly brush Obi-Wan’s cheek, a breath of warmth, the faint touch of a hand, and then she was gone.

Vader pulled out his lightsaber and Siri’s body fell at his feet. For a moment he paused and looked down at her, that riotous golden hair of hers gleaming in the Naboo afternoon sunlight, and he felt almost…uncertain in the Force.

Perhaps it was that, a powerful Jedi Master’s death, Siri’s golden hair, her calling Vader by his true name, that caused him to fail to see Apailana and her handmaidens descending down upon him, a deadly, coordinated, interweaving unit consisting of overlapping personal shields and outstanding accuracy from their ELG-3A blaster pistols.

Apailana reached Vader even as he seemed to come out of whatever trance he was in. She threw herself forward, breaking rank to dive under Vader’s guard and the rising blade of his lightsaber. The Sith Lord was slightly off, slightly too slow, still unbalanced.

The Naboo queen was on her back upon the ground, the blue sky above her, her blaster pointed directly into Vader’s face, her finger depressing the trigger, and Obi-Wan could feel Ana- Vader’s alarm in the Force.

Reflexively his hands clenched, the overwhelming urge to save Anakin, to do something, _anything_ , causing him to step forward and reach out to the Force before his rational mind caught up with him.

Not Anakin. _Vader._ Anakin Skywalker was dead.

He halted – Artoo’s domed head frantically whirling between Anakin and Obi-Wan – and then Commander Cody threw himself into Vader’s side, pushing the Sith Lord out of the way and taking a blaster bolt right in the neck; a shot which had been meant for his general.

Obi-Wan watched Cody drop, he watched Apailana scramble to her feet, her opportunity lost as the 501st encircled Vader once more, and watched as the queen retreated behind the protective screen of her handmaidens and call a retreat.

Vader knelt down and slowly pulled Cody’s helmet off.

Numbly, knowing now was his moment and unable to watch any monger, Obi-Wan pulled his hood up over his face. He vanished within the Force, kept to the shadows, and exited the palace. Artoo rolled after him.

Neither of them looked back as they kept close to the palace’s walls, circled the front of the structure, and left the battle behind them. They were heading towards a landspeeder rental station at the western edge of Theed.

It was strange how not even three blocks from the Royal Palace, the sounds of battle were muted, almost indistinct. Obi-Wan and Artoo didn’t talk on the short journey. The world still moved strangely around the Jedi Master, an unreality he knew would be pierced by grief eventually. He just hoped that didn’t occur in the middle of something important. The only thought that passed through his head was an inane sense of thankfulness to the Force that Ahsoka was not here.

She was still sometimes as impulsive as Anakin had been. She would never had stood and watched. She would have intervened, faced Vader, and died.

Siri was a faint memory of first love but Obi-Wan hadn’t been close to her since – well, years before his mission to Mandalore and introduction to Satine. Siri’s loss hurt, even more than he’d imagined it would, but he knew he would recover.

Ahsoka was the closest he would ever come to having a daughter. Her loss would break him as badly as Anakin’s had.

Anakin.

“Almost there,” he said, needlessly, to the droid, just to get himself out of his own head.

Artoo beeped an agreement.

“As soon as we get to the Lake Country, I need to you run a scan for any ships in a five-mile radius of the nearest cities,” Obi-Wan continued. “Bane won’t want to be too far away from his ship and preclude a quick escape if needed.”

Artoo beeped a question. Obi-Wan had no idea what he said, his binary had never been great, but he took a guess.

“Leia will be alright,” he assured the droid, more firmly than he felt. “Bane would be foolish to kill her before he obtains whatever it is that he wants/”

Which was still unknown. As was who, exactly, Bane was working for. Bane rarely worked on his own volition. He would have a hidden benefactor somewhere. And it was him, or her, Obi-Wan was really in a race against time with.

The Organas had many potential enemies, bad people in both the political and criminal world on whose toes they had stepped in their effort to clean up as much of the galaxy as they could. Obi-Wna had next to nothing to go on which allowed him to narrow down that list.

Well, nothing except his gut, and he didn’t like what it was telling him. Naboo, he thought. Why Naboo?

“Have you had any word from Ahsoka?” he asked Artoo. The negative response didn’t surprise him, but it didn’t comfort him either.

One thing at a time, he reminded himself. Leia first.

 

0o0o0

 

Cody felt the shot go through him, felt the pain followed by a creeping coldness. His limbs suddenly wouldn’t obey him, and he slid ungracefully to the hard cobblestones beneath his feet. The warm, Naboo sun shone done on him but it didn’t touch him.

 

He could see Vader bending down over him, pausing in his rampage…waiting for him to die.

 

There was something he had to say to him…to Anakin Skywalker…. Kenobi had been here….the General?....

 

“General Skywalker!” Cody gasped out, vaguely wondering if he was bleeding or if the blaster shot had merely fried his internal organs. Vader was kneeling on the cobblestones, the Clone Commander realized, the shouts and blaster bolts of red and green and blue streaming in the air all around them. People were yelling and shouting and dying on all sides.

 

It didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was…

 

“General Skywalker….” He gasped out again. _Don’t give up,_ his mind cried, but his voice wouldn’t form the words and he wasn’t even sure whether they were meant for Vader or for himself. He had too many regrets in his too-short life but this…this wouldn’t be one of them. He managed to activate the beacon on his wrist gauntlet. Rex would know what it meant.

 

But there was still something he had to say to Vader. His vision was going dark and he had no idea how to reach the man, but he had to try.

 

“Don’t…fear…there are still…brothers…”

 

And then the life fled form the loyal and true body of clone commander Cody, and he became one with the Force at last.

 

0o0o0

 

Vader let Cody’s body fall heedlessly to the ground and then he stood back up on his feet. He ignited his lightsaber once more, offhandedly blocked a few shots aimed at him and looked around frantically for…

 

…Kenobi.

 

He had been here. Vader could feel it.

Well, his old master could run, but he couldn’t hide forever. Vader would find him, sooner or later.

 

0o0o0

 

Orto Plutonia was a barren rock of snow and ice. Towering snow-covered mountains and steep, icy ravines broke up the landscape, but nothing grew on the surface and only the Talz were able to survive there. For millennia, neither the Pantorans nor the Republic were even aware that the Talz existed.

The Talz were a mammalian bipedal species who spoke a language that had yet to be translated. Ahsoka remembered Master Obi-Wan’s and Anakin’s stories from their visit with the Talz back during the Clone Wars. She wondered how they felt about the Imperial presence on their world, or if the two groups had yet to come in contact with one another.

Ahsoka and Riyo took Ahsoka’s junky, derelict freighter from Capital City at the height of rush hour. They passed the imperial star destroyer and jumped to hyperspace at the designated spot, but they exited again just on the far side of Orto Plutonia, out of range of the Empire’s sensors, before circling back to the ice planet again. It was a slightly risky maneuver, for if the Empire checked their exit vector it would be obvious where they had gone, but Ahsoka was counting on the fact that the amount of traffic passing through the system meant the Empire was stretched thin and wouldn’t be looking too closely at one old, mid-sized freighter.

Ahsoka was actually surprised Riyo accompanied her on this mission. The other woman had always been a politician not a partisan.

Once the ship exited lightspeed, Ahsoka set course for the ice planet on a very slow, shallow descent, using minimal thrust from the sublight drive in order to mask their signature and presence as much as possible from any Imperial scanners on the ground.

Neither the Pantorans nor the Rebellion was sure how many bases the Empire had on the planet, but if Ahsoka had to put money on it she’d go with just one. Such an inhospitable place meant that it was harder to maintain an outpost here. More than one would be foolish, even for the Empire.

Ahsoka set course, visually checked her position and course out the viewscreen, and then leaned back comfortably in her seat, gaze sweeping the woman beside her.

Riyo was dressed much as Ahsoka herself was, in multiple layers of heat-trapping shirts, pants and boots. Ahsoka wore a hooded, fur-lined coat which had once been a Jedi’s. It had been left on Pantora almost a decade ago and Riyo had found it during her rummage through the storage rooms and given it to Ahsoka as they’d prepped for this mission. Ahsoka’s fingers kept tracing the rising phoenix symbol of the Jedi Order sewn into the lapel. Consciously, she made herself stop.

Riyo was dressed in silvery-grey and white, her lovely lavender hair braided and twisted out of her face. Ahsoka wondered if Pantorans had hair as soft as most humans. She wondered if Riyo would be offended if she asked.

“Why did you decide to come?” she asked, deciding that the straightforward approach was best.

Riyo turned towards her, the intricate silver hair piece woven through her braid and bun tinkled as she moved. “Because I’m not a fighter?” There was no accusation in her tone.

Ahsoka shrugged. Because your skillset has always led you along a different path,” she explained. Riyo, much like the late and lamented Padmé Amidala, had always had the gift to get people to talk to her and to persuade two opposing sides to at least listen to each other. Ahsoka had often been jealous of this ability, especially when she’d seen Master Obi-Wan do it as well.

Anakin was more of a ‘swing a lightsaber at it’ kind of guy.

Riyo nodded. “Yes, under the Republic I was.” She grimaced. “But how skilled was I to fail to see what direction the Republic was heading? Wasn’t it my duty as its keeper and guardian to fight such moral decline? Yet I failed to see and did nothing.”

It was a regret, a self-recrimination, that Ahsoka had heard all too often in the past five years, from Bail, from Mon Mothma, from Lux, and from others. “It was not your fault,” she said gently. It never helped the guilt, but they needed to hear it anyway.

Riyo’s eyes were stern. “It was someone’s fault,” she insisted.

“Yes,” Ahsoka agreed. “It was Palpatine’s. At the end of the day, he was to blame.”

Riyo nodded in agreement after a moment. “I suppose, but why? Why destroy the Republic? Why hunt down the Jedi?”

Ahsoka looked away. Would it help Riyo to learn that Palpatin was actually a Sith Lord instead of the kindly old man he appeared as? She didn’t think so. The ways of Force users were unfathomable to most. Riyo would not understand. Not yet. And with any luck, she would never need to. So, she simplified it. “He wants power, unlimited by anyone or anything else.”

Riyo shivered. “That is a lonely way to exist,” she said quietly. “He seemed like such a kind, good man.”

“Yes,” Ahsoka said grimly. “Anakin thought so as well.”

Ahsoka was 24. She was one year older than Anakin Skywalker had ever been. Because of Palpatine.

And one day, if Ahsoka had anything to say, she would make him pay for it.

 

0o0o0

 

The Twi’lek Jedi, A’lura, found Obi-Wan as he knelt in the mud of the Lake Country and examined the print of landing gear which still remained. Not even half a day old.

Tall, ancient and dripping trees towered high above him. It had rained several hours ago, and moisture was still thick in the air. The underbrush was lush and thick here and Bane’s ship had left a large imprint. The Force was silent save for a faint echo of fear; a little girl’s fear. Leia’s fear. It tasted like acid in Obi-Wan’s mouth.

A’lura dropped down from the trees above and landed beside him. She looked bad, her robes torn and burned, her eyes wild with fear, and one of her lekku singed by a lightsaber.

Obi-Wan had felt her presence before she’d made herself known and now he stood up slowly to greet her. Something in her seemed to settle at this.

“Master Kenobi,” she said respectfully, lekku twitching.

“Knight A’lura,” Obi-Wan returned, and she took a small breath, settling even further.

“Everyone is dead.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Not everyone.”

“Enough are.”

“Yes.”

Her lekku twitched again and she grimaced in pain. “We failed,” she admitted.

“Not yet,” Obi-Wan said slowly, stroking his greying auburn beard in thought.

The other Jedi perked up at his words, her spine straightening and something like hope flickering in her Force presence for the first time.  “What should I do, Master?”

Obi-Wan had an idea on what would help, but it wasn’t his responsibility to order another Jedi. The decision would have to come from her and her alone. “What is the first mission of a Jedi Knight?” he prodded. It was a simple question, a lesson taught to all younglings before they were ever given their first practice lightsaber or taught how to make things float.

The young Jedi stood even straighter. “To protect life,” she responded promptly. Obi-Wan almost smiled, it took him back to the few lessons he had watched Master Yoda given to young Jedi in the Temple.

“There is still much to protect, much to save, after this day is done,” he told A’lura.

She looked at him for a moment and then dropped her eyes to stare at the mud as she thought. “They’ve made no mention of capturing the queen,” she said at last, and Obi-Wan was relieved at this news.

“Then that might be a good place to start. You will have to get her off planet though. Her presence brings too much danger to this system now.”

A’lura nodded. “Thank you, Master Kenobi. I will find her.” She made to dart away again but Obi-Wan reached out and gently grabbed her elbow.

“Not so fast, young one,” he said. “First you must heal yourself. The queen will have gone to ground. She will be hard to find again.” He thought for a moment longer. “And I believe that I have someone who may help you, once you have Apailana. She’s in the business of setting up rebel cells and I think she might be glad to have a contingent of trained Naboo and a Jedi in one of these cells.” Obi-Wan stared at the young Jedi seriously. “However, if you do this, much will have to change. I’m not sure we’re ready for open warfare with the Empire. You will have to hide until the time is right. Can you do that?”

A’lura thought about this and stared into Obi-Wan’s eyes. The Jedi Master didn’t know what she was looking for, but he hoped she found it. Her eyes darted away, around at the woods and up at the old trees. At last she looked back at him and nodded. “I will do what is required of me,” she said softly. She stepped back and then bowed once to Obi-Wan, the respectful bow of two opponents after a sparring match was finished or even the bow of a student to a master after a lesson had been learned.

“Thank you, Master Kenobi. May the Force be with you.”

“May the Force be with you,” Obi-Wan returned, “Jedi Knight.”

And then she was gone.

 

0o0o0

 

Ahsoka and Riyo lay on their stomachs behind a giant snowdrift and fixed two pairs of macrobinoculars on the distant imperial base. It was a fairly large facility for an out-of-the-way, inhospitable world like Orto Plutonia. There was also absolutely nothing going on outside of the base, no traffic passing through the gate, and only one landing pad that looked like it saw any kind of semi-regular use.

That made infiltrating it much harder.

“What is an imperial base even doing out here,” Riyo said, echoing Ahsoka’s thoughts.

“Well,” she said slowly, scanning the icy, barren flat area that stretched for miles around the base. “If something very large and dangerous was to escape –”

“Like the Zillo beast,” Riyo interjected with a smile.

“ -no one would be around to notice.”

“Except the Talz,” Riyo added, her smile fading.

Ahsoka stretched out with the Force but the only life forms she could detect were inside the base. “Master Obi-Wan said the Talz were quite primitive. Would they have had any way to contact the Council on Pantora for help if they were attacke?”

Riyo shook her head.

“I can’t sense them,” Ahsoka admitted, “but with unfamiliar alien life forms that’s not surprising.”

The two of them lapsed into silence.

“Perhaps we’ll discover more answers when we get inside,” Ahsoka suggested at last.

“Yes,” Riyo agreed, too quickly. “But how do we do that?”

Ahsoka couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. Memories of her masters and their various antics rose up in her mind’s eye. “Don’t worry,” she confided. “I’m an expert at breaking into places where I’m not supposed to be.”

Riyo rolled her eyes even as her lips twitched up into a smile again. “It’s not the breaking in I’m actually worried about.”

The walls of the Imperial base were eight stories high, smooth, without opening, and entirely covered in ice. They were also topped by barbed wire fencing that appeared to have motion detection sensors placed within it at even intervals.

The only way into or out of the base appeared to be by space ship. Ahsoka and Riyo circled the base from a distance of 5 kilometers, macrobinoculars fixed to find any opening that would make this easier than scaling the wall.

“They probably have heat sensors as well,” Ahsoka murmured, the icy wind stealing her words away and making it hard to breathe.

Dark was rapidly approaching, and the limited grey light was disappearing with it. Soon they’d have to turn on the night scopes. This would make them easier to detect by any routine scans from the base.

“Yes, but do they all still work?” Riyo returned, squinting through her own pair of macrobinoculars. “An out of the way, secret, inaccessible base like this? Might not get routine shipments of equipment. Might be on the bottom of the requisitions list.”

“Gotta love Imperial bureaucracy,” Ahsoka agreed.

“Even worse than the Republic.”

“Who knew.”

It was Riyo who found the opening in the wall first. “What are those?” she asked, twenty minutes later, after most of the light had left the sky. A storm was blowing in as well and visibility was rapidly decreasing.

“What’s what?”

Riyo had found a series of fractures running up and down a large section of the base’s perimeter on the north side. Ahsoka studied the cracks. “It looks like something very large broke through and they attempted to patch it up again. Badly,” she concluded.

Riyo studied the wall as well. “Does that help us?”

Ahsoka thought about the cracks and the approaching storm, the cover of night, and her increasing connection with the Force as she grew older. She remembered meditating on Tatooine with Master Obi-Wan and the sand they had made dance around them – the eye of the storm.

“Well, I’m no longer a Jedi, but maybe.” And as night fell, she left their cover and headed down the hill towards the Imperial base.

Riyo trotted after her. “What do you mean you’re no longer a Jedi?” She sounded incredulous.

Ahsoka remembered Barriss’ betrayal, the Jedi Council abandoning her, and then how she walked away from the Jedi in return.

“It was my choice,” she admitted softly.

“But you’re a Jedi!” Riyo still sounded stunned.

Ahsoka couldn’t suppress her involuntary smile. Her friend sounded so offended. “Are you still a Senator? You stepped down and have become something else.”

Riyo lapsed into silence and then there was only the crunch of their boots in the hard-packed snow and the increasing wailing of the wind. The snow began to swirl around them, making the distant lights of the Imperial base almost impossible to see. Ahsoka relied on the Force to guide her in the right direction.

At last, Riyo said, “Being a Jedi is a not a career, like being a Senator or a…a mechanic.” She waved her hand around to illustrate her point, whatever that point was going to be. “Being a Jedi is a way of life. A choice on how to live and how to – to connect with the Force, that you make every day.” And in this moment Riyo sounded so much like the departed Padmé Amidala that Ahsoka’s heart hurt a little bit. “You still look like a Jedi to me.”

She made Ahsoka want to believe her.

Ahsoka stopped several hundred paces away from the cracked wall. The base was invisible in the darkness and a violent, howling snowstorm engulfed the entire valley. Riyo was gripping Ahsoka’s elbow in order to keep from losing her.

Ahsoka closed her eyes, felt the Force flowing through her and reached out with her left hand. For a moment she struggled, hearing the wall crack further and several chunks broke off, shattering on the ground, with a noise that could be heard over the storm. Then a gust of wind blew off her hood and in the resulting, icy blast of wind, her connection with the Force was lost.

“Ugh,” she said as Riyo tugged her hood back up over the tips of her montrals.

“We can find another way.”

Ahsoka shook her head stubbornly. “I can do it.” She was sweating in the icy air.”

She firmed her stance and lifted her left hand again, and then she felt Riyo slip her own hand into Ahsoka’s right. Their fingers intertwined. Riyo’s hand was cold but strong, her grip tight. She wasn’t letting go. Ahsoka could feel the Force flowing through the other woman, even if Riyo could not touch it. Riyo felt solid, like the earth, in the Force, firm, immovable and steady. Ahsoka’s breathing evened out and the storm dropped away from her awareness. All there was, was the feel of Riyo’s hand in hers and the looming presence of the wall.

The Force flowed between her and Riyo, her and the storm, her and Orto Plutonia, ancient and cold and powerful. She felt the energy, she touched it. And then she hurled all that energy at the broken wall.

The wall fell.

“So, why did you decide to become a resistance fighter?” Ahsoka asked, shouting over the noise of the falling wall, the wind making her throat burn.

“Is now really the best time for this?” Riyo shouted back, sounding exasperated.

Ahsoka would have shrugged if her muscles weren’t freezing solid. “Probably,” she yelled back and surprisingly Riyo laughed.

“I’ve missed you, Ahsoka Tano,” Riyo said, when the last rumbles finally died away, and the fondness and awe in her voice made Ahsoka’s heart clench.

 _I’ve missed you too_ , she said, but not out loud. She’d thought of Riyo several times in the years since the Republic fell, but only in the moment when she’d felt strong. The past had been so much brighter than the present that if she’d thought on it too long, she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to continue on. Try to start over again.

Until she’d found Master Obi-Wan on Tatooine, almost a year ago now.

The future looked lighter now, even if finding Artoo and Bail, Obi-Wan and Riyo gave her something to lose again. She tried to remember her lessons from the Temple and live just one day at a time. She tugged Riyo’s hand before dropping it again, and the two of them ran towards the opening in the wall, alarms blarring over the howling of the storm.

“Why aren’t you a Jedi anymore?” Riyo whispered in Ahsoka’s ear as several snowtroopers ran past, echoing the Rebel spy’s thoughts. She should have known her friend wouldn’t let the subject drop. Riyo had known how much being a Jedi meant to the younger Ahsoka.

Now she shook her head and didn’t answer, even as she and Riyo snuck past several maintenance crew. How could she explain everything that happened? “It just wasn’t my path,” she said at last, when they were ducking behind several generators.

Riyo gave her a sharp look. “You seem like a Jedi to me. You are as wise as General Kenobi and as brave as General Skywalker.”

The sharp pain in her chest this time was a mixture of pride and melancholy and joy. “Thanks,” she whispered, Riyo’s words meaning more than she could ever know.

Ahsoka knocked out a pair of stormtroopers and she and Riyo snuck into the base using their ill-fitting armor. Imperials rushed past in a vaguely disorganized mob as they attempted to repair the breach. Riyo hefted her blaster in a way that reassured Ahsoka she’d used one many times before. They kept their heads down, marched with purpose and soon arrived in a hallway that was empty.

At a computer terminal in one of the maintenance sections, Ahsoka sliced through the base’s security firewalls using a basic Rebel algorithm one of the Phoenix Squadron techs had created and downloaded a blueprint of the base’s layout. She suppressed her automatic wish for Artoo and his ability to find anything she needed. This time, she and Riyo examined the blueprints.

“How about here,” Riyo said, her voice sounding odd from the ‘trooper’s helmet distortion, and she pointed at a section that, on most imperial bases, would denote the main hangar bay. “If the beast is as large as your Master Skywalker reported, logically they would put it in the largest space they have.”

“Logic and the Empire don’t exactly go hand in hand,” Ahsoka grumbled, but they agreed to check the main hangar first.

Ahsoka knew as soon as they entered the hangar bay, that something was wrong. She felt cold.

“Well, well, well,” came a satisfied voice. “Look what the Loth-cat dragged in.”

Riyo and Ahsoka both froze, barely through the doorway into the main hangar. The large area was surrounded by catwalks which periodically led down to the lower level. The main hangar itself was almost entirely dominated by a force-field inside of which, within a series of durasteel clamps, was the Zillo beast. It was a massive, armor-plated monster with ancient, sad eyes. They stared back at Ahsoka even as she took in the sight of the three figures that waited for her on the main level.

Two were dressed in strange, black armor, with spinning red lightsabers. Ahsoka had seen their kind before. She had fought and defeated a Shadow once, on the moon of Raada. He had been a dark presence in the Froce, a bleeding wound. These two felt the same; a huge, hulking woman with a fearsome grin and a slender man with a covered face.

It was the woman at the center though who caused Ahsoka’s heart to clench. For there, dressed in a flowing black dress and cape, a single, red blade ignited in her hands, was Barriss Offee.

Ahsoka heard herself gasp, could feel her heart pounding in her chest, knew that Riyo was looking at her in concern even as she leveled her blaster at the three darksiders.

“I’m almost impressed, Offee,” said the huge woman, her sharp, pointed teeth barred in a smile. She was from a species that Ahsoka was unfamiliar with, but her face was one Ahsoka was sure she had seen somewhere before. “When you suggested this little plan, I wasn’t sure we lure in even one Jedi, let alone Ahsoka Tano.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” Ahsoka said evenly, “but I’m no longer a Jedi.”

“Once a Jedi, always a Jedi, little one,” hissed the man on Barriss’ right. Ahsoka had avoided looking at her old friend, and Barriss herself had yet to say a word.

“I could say the same about you,” Ahsoka shot back, a hunch but obviously the correct assumption given the sudden fury she felt off of all three of them. She smiled and unhooked her lightsabers from her belt.

“I’ll take the stairs,” Riyo murmured from behind her.

Ahsoka nodded without looking away from Barriss. She vaulted over the railing and dropped down before her three, red-bladed opponents, her own silver blades igniting with their familiar snap-hiss. She wasn’t sure how long she’d last against three of them, but she knew she could last long enough for Riyo to free the Zillo beast.

“Such a noble act.” The burly woman laughed again. “Just like a Jedi.”

“You ran,” Barriss said, her voice flat and emotionless, her beautiful blue eyes sith-yellow, “but you didn’t run very far.”

Ahsoka could see Riyo inching down the staircase behind the shadows and Barriss. They obviously didn’t consider her a threat, as all three still watched Ahsoka.

“Enough talk,” she said, pointing the tip of her blade at Barriss. “Are we going to fight or what?” she demanded. Riyo, moving slowly, was almost at the computer terminal next to the main clamp that encircled the Zillo beast’s waist. Its giant golden eye watched her as she came closer. Riyo grimaced as she studied the terminal and all the blinking lights before she reached out and gingerly prodded a button.

 _Oh dear,_ she thought, unwillingly amused, _this might take longer than I thought._ She jumped, spun, and attacked the nearest Shadow. He was easy to defeat.

Barriss stepped in. Her moves were all grace and precision, her skirts flowing out around her. Ahsoka had fought her once before and she’d lost; she knew her own strengths and how much she’d grown by now thought. Master Obi-Wan had trained her well since she’d found him.

He’d often said that the dark side blinded those who followed it. She wondered if Barriss would be so blinded by arrogance she would assume Ahsoka fought just as she had six years ago.

The two Shadows flanked Ahsoka and tried to box her in.

The lights on the terminal turned green and the clamps released with a hiss, almost impossible to hear over the clashing of lightsaber blades and the clanging alarms of the base. “What happened to you, Barriss?” Ahsoka asked, a flurry of blows and thrusts briefly putting the Shadows on the defensive.

Barriss moved in and attacked Ahsoka’s unprotected back. They exchanged a flurry of blows. Barriss had improved but Ahsoka kept up with her effortlessly. She threw a hand out and Force pushed the Shadows back. The woman stayed on her feet. The man hit a bunch of crates, cursing, his lightsaber flying out of his grip.

Anakin would never have approved of such sloppy swordsmanship.

Barriss briefly looked over at him and the disdain on her face almost made Ahsoka warm to her. The other woman turned her cold face back towards Ahsoka. “I found a new master to serve,” she said, kicking Ahsoka viciously in the chest.

Ahsoka stumbled back, turned her momentum into a flip forward and swept Barriss’ feet out from under her. “Well, it seems you forgot everything you ever learned from your _true_ master,” she said scornfully.

Barriss growled and jumped back onto her feet. “I serve the Emperor!” she shouted. “I am his personal Hand!”

Ahsoka watched as the Zillo beast suddenly loomed up behind Barriss, saw the two Shadows, now back on their feet, staring up at it with terror on their faces. She smiled. “The personal pet of a maniac,” she scoffed at Barriss, “when you had once been a noble knight. How the mighty have fallen.” And then she gestured behind her with a lightsaber and jumped away, back up to the catwalk, as Barriss turned around and saw the Zillo beast snarling above her.

Riyo was running towards her along the catwalk, her smile as wide as a hug. Ahsoka turned towards the doors, confident not even the Shadows and Barriss could penetrate the Zillo beast’s armor. They might even get away with this yet. Now all they had to do was find a way to escape and hopefully take the Zillo beast with them.

But then, as the door slid open, Ahsoka heard the steady stomp of dozens of uniformed feet.

 

0o0o0

 

The rain came steadily down, pinging off Vader’s armor as he watched the silent Naboo remove their dead. The square before the Royal Palace was littered with Gungan and Naboo alike. The Imperials had collected their fallen and the Naboo were starting to now. The sky above was lead grey and every light in the city was extinguished. Although Vader’s photoreceptors turned the world to red, he knew that everything was in fact cold, dark and dreary.

This had been Padmé’s place, but without her it was nothing.

“My Lord?” It was the voice of the garrison commander piercing through Vader’s reverie. He waved at the slow moving and eerily silent people. “Should we interfere?”

“No,” Vader said. “Let them collect the dead.” It would show them the folly of rebelling against the Empire.

The commander saluted and departed, leaving Vader to watch the Naboo. Their grief clung cloyingly in the Force like a dark well of despair. It was pain and loss and unending loneliness, a repeating loop, and Vader drew it into himself until all he felt was despair.

And the dark side grew stronger. He grew stronger.

Vader watched their grief, he could _feel_ their grief, but he himself felt nothing.

After a while he turned away. The sky had darkened further with the advent of late afternoon and a ominous hush hung over the city. The streets one block away from the Palace were deserted. Vader walked purposefully over the rain-slicked cobblestones, the only sounds in all the world the inexorable rasp of his respirator and the plink-plonk of water droplets.

In a city as bright and beautiful and full of life as Theed, always was, the contrast was jarring, and Vader had never felt more alone in his life then he did now, on the walk to his wife’s tomb.

Vader stood and stared down at the marble effigy carved in his wife’s likeness. She had been so young, only 27. He was one year older than Padmé had ever been.

She was unchanged by time, as beautiful as the day he’d met her, an angel. And she had been his.

Before Obi-Wan had taken her from him.

He could feel the familiar rage build in him again, that rage which drove him to scour the galaxy for his old master – ever more powerful now that he had been so close, had stood inside Kenobi’s home, been right on his trail. It mixed with the desire he had to go back to his palace on Mustafar, to see Lord Momin’s latest design in order to harness the Dark Side and breach the veil between life and death.

He had seen Padmé there. He had seen many things, but _she_ had been there. He would find a way back to her again, and this time he would take her from the past and bring her back with him, where she would remain, as she was supposed to, by his side.

“Lord Vader.” His comm crackled. The walls of Padmé’s mausoleum were shaking around him, stones dislodged and falling into the churning, grey waters of the river below.

“What is it, Captain?”

“We have an emergency communication coming in for you over a high-priority channel.”

One of the Inquisitorius now doubt. Sometimes Vader through their incompetence, their hindrance based on their Jedi-training, was more trouble than they were worth. “Send it through.”

The Ninth Sister’s familiar, hideous features swam into view. “You’ll never guess who we’ve captured, my lord.”

Vader was in no mood to play games. He breathed and said nothing, watching as the smile eventually fell from Ninth Sister’s face. She cleared her throat hurriedly. “Ahsoka Tano, Lord Vader. We have Ahsoka Tano.”

It was a name from the past. It was a name connected with Obi-Wan Kenobi. And with Anakin Skywalker.

“Bring her to me on Mustafar,” he commanded. “Immediately.”

He walked away from Padmé’s tomb without a backwards glance. It was only a matter of time before the Emperor learned of Tano’s capture. Vader would get to her first.   

 

0o0o0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! I know this chapter isn’t at all Christmas-y or happy, lol, but I’ve been working on it for several weeks and decided to finish it as a present to you all. Thanks so much for reading this, your kudos/likes and your comments! I hope you all have a wonderful holiday and a happy new year!
> 
> So, hints of Ahsoka/Riyo just kind of crept in. I never ship Ahsoka with anyone – she’s a Jedi through and through – but I know that a lot of people ship her with Barriss or Kaeden or even Riyo, so I decided to try it. Let me know what you think. Or course, you can totally read it as a really close, platonic friendship as well. Whatever floats your kayak and all. Perhaps even a hint of Ahsoka/Barriss crept in? 
> 
> So, we got some closure on the Anakin/Padmé story and I’ve always loved the image of Vader standing at Amidala’s tomb. How was the Siri v. Vader fight? And the Ahsoka v. Barriss rematch? The Zillo beast made its return. Will Ahsoka discover that Vader is actually Anakin Skywalker? What is Bane even up to? And where is Obi-Wan going now? All will be revealed. Stay tuned.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone notice the A-wing slash – created by General Garm Bel Iblis in the old canon – in this chapter? I wonder who invented it in this timeline?


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